Even love

In the meadows silk grasses we see the black snail

Creeping out at the close of the eve sipping dew
While evens one star glitters over the vale
Like a lamp hung outside of that temple of blue
I walk with my true love adown the green vale
The light feathered grasses keep tapping her shoe
In the whitethorn the nightingale sings her sweet tale
& the blades of the grasses are sprinkled with dew

If she stumbles I catch her and cling to her neck
As the meadow-sweet kisses the blush of the rose
Her whisper none hears & the kisses I take
The mild voice of even will never disclose
Her hair hung in ringlets adown her sweet cheek
That blushed like the rose in the hedge hung with dew
Her whisper was fragrance her face was so meek
The dove was the type on't that from the bush flew

Daily #JohnClare posts

#poetry #environment