To tastes warm bosom & to healths flusht cheek
Morns flushing face peeps out her first fond smile
Crimsoning the east in many tinted hue
The horison round as edgd with brooding mist
Penc'ling its seeming circle round so uniform
In ting[e] of faintly blue—how lovly then
The streak which matchless nature skirting sweet
Flushes the edges of the arching sky
& melting draws the hangings of the morn
Daily #JohnClare postings
#poetry #environment
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