Decay (7)

Aye Poesy hath passed away
& Fancys visions undeceive us
The night hath ta'en the place of day
& why should passing shadows grieve us
I thought the flowers upon the hills
Were flowers from Adams open gardens
But I have had my summer thrills
& I have had my hearts rewardings
So Poesy is on the wane
I hardly know her face again

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Decay (6)

Mere withered stalks & fading trees
& pastures spread with hills & rushes
Are all my fading vision sees
Gone gone are raptures flooding gushes
When mushrooms they were fairy bowers
Their marble pillars overswelling
& Danger paused to pluck the flowers
That in their swarthy rings were dwelling
Yes Poesy is on the wane
Nor joy nor fear is mine again

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#honesty

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Decay (5)

Loves sun went down without a frown
For very joy it used to grieve us
I often think the West is gone
Ah cruel Time to undeceive us
The stream it is a common stream
Where we on Sundays used to ramble
The sky hangs oer a broken dream
The brambles dwindled to a bramble
O Poesy is on the wane
I cannot find her haunts again

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Decay (4)

The sun those mornings used to find
Its clouds were other-country mountains
& heaven looked downward on the mind
Like groves & rocks & mottled fountains
Those heavens are gone the mountains grey
Turned mist--the sun a homeless ranger
Pursues alone his naked way
Unnoticed like a very stranger
O Poesy is on the wane
Nor love nor joy is mine again

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#honesty

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Decay (3)

I sat beside the pasture stream
When Beautys self was sitting by
The fields did more than Eden seem
Nor could I tell the reason why
I often drank when not adry
To pledge her health in draughts divine
Smiles made it nectar from the sky
Love turned een water into wine
O Poesy is on the wane
I cannot find her face again

Image by my friend #JackBodimead

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Decay (2)

The bank with brambles overspread
& little molehills round about it
Was more to me than laurel shades
With paths of gravel finely clouted
& streaking here & streaking there
Through shaven grass & many a border
With rutty lanes had no compare
& heaths were in a richer order
But Poesy is on the wane
I hardly know her face again

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#honesty

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Decay (1)

O Poesy is on the wane
For Fancys visions all unfitting
I hardly know her face again
Nature herself seems on the flitting
The fields grow old & common things
The grass the sky the winds a-blowing
& spots where still a beauty clings
Are sighing "going all a-going”
O Poesy is on the wane
I hardly know her face again

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#honesty

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Fairey dreams

Spring comes anew & brings each little pledge

That still as wont my childish heart decieves
I stoop again for violets in the hedge
Among the Ivy & old withered leaves
& often mark amid the clumps of sedge
The pooty shells I gathered when a boy
But cares have claimed me many an evil day
& chilled the relish which I had for joy
Yet when crab blossoms blush among the may
As wont in years gone bye I scramble now
Up mid the brambles for my old esteems
Filling my hands with many a blooming bough
Till the heart stirring past as present seems
Save the bright sunshine of those fairey dreams

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Evening

What time the woodlands hides the sun 
& Nathans dirty works near done 
When cows are drovd to milking up 
& hogs are calld on swill to sup 
& nogs of hay on ploughmens backs 
Tempt horses to their nightly racks 
& beast which nought but want can draw 
Lunge brousing round their cribs of straw 
What time gen out the threshing clown 
Wi in his corner drops him down 
& sups him oer his porridge free 
& gossips chattering oer their tea

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from ‘The Dream’

When nights last hours like haunting spirits creep

With listning terrors round the couch of sleep

& midnight brooding with its deepest dye

Seizes on fear with dismal sympathy

I dreamd a dream of somthing kin to fate

Which superst[it]ions blackest thoughts create

Something half natural to the grave that seems

Which deaths long trance of slumber aptly dreams

A dream of staggering horrors & of dread

Whose shadows lingerd when the dream had fled

Clinging to memory with their gloomy view

Till doubt & fancy half believd it true

That time was come or seemd as it was come

When death no longer makes the grave its home

When waking spirits leave their earthly rest

To mix forever with the damnd or blest

When years in drowsey thousands counted bye

Then hung on minutes with their destiny

When life in terror drops its draining glass

& all thats mortal like to shadows pass

As neath approaching tempests sinks the sun

When time shall leave eternity begun

Life swoond in terror at that hours dread birth
& as in ague shook the fearful earth

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All my company

I hate the very noise of troublous man
Who did and does me all the harm he can
Free from the world I would a prisoner be
& my own shadow all my company
& lonely see the shooting stars appear
Worlds rushing into judgment all the year
O lead me onward to the loneliest shade
The darkest place that quiet ever made
Where kingcups grow most beauteous to behold
& shut up green and open into gold
Farewell to poesy & leave the will
Take all the world away & leave me still
The mirth & music of a womans voice
That bids the heart be happy & rejoice

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Quiet Joys

O take me from the busy crowd
I cannot bear the noise
For Natures voice is never loud
I seek for quiet joys
The book I love is everywhere
& not in idle words
The book I love is known to all
& better lore affords

The book I love is everywhere
& every place the same
God bade me make my dwelling there
& look for better fame
I never feared the critics pen
To live by my renown
I found the poems in the fields
& only wrote them down

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#honesty

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Philida

The spring returns the gushing rains 
No more defile the scene 
Nor in her cot the maid detains 
Long banishd from the green 
Each awthorn buds sufficient bower 
To hide the amourous dove 
O Philida in such a hour 
How sweet to meet & love 

The snows are all desolvd & gone 
The gale breaths mild & warm 
Springs put the earths green mantle on 
New strewd wi flowers to charm 
Each milking maid attends her cow 
True meeting swains to prove 
O Philida how sweet as now 
Wi thee to walk & love 

The even comes in purple clad 
The sun has left the view 
The willow groves hang oer the pad 
To shield us from the dew 
No eyes break undistinguish night 
To watch us or reprove 
O Philida my souls delight 
Haste let us hide & love

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#honesty

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The Yellowhammers Nest

When shall I see the white-thorn leaves agen
& yellowhammers gathering the dry bents
By the dyke side on stilly moor or fen
Feathered with love and natures good intents
Rude is the tent this architect invents
Rural the place with cart ruts by dyke side
Dead grass horse hair & downy-headed bents
Tied to dead thistles she doth well provide
Close to a hill of ants where cowslips bloom
& shed oer meadows far their sweet perfume
In early spring when winds blow chilly cold
The yellowhammer trailing grass will come
To fix a place & choose an early home
With yellow breast & head of solid gold

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below

My humble dust

I would not that my memory all should die,
And pass away with every common lot:
I would not that my humble dust should lie
In quite a strange and unfrequented spot,
By all unheeded and by all forgot,
With nothing save the heedless winds to sigh,
And nothing but the dewy morn to weep
About my grave, far hid from the world's eye:
I fain would have some friend to wander nigh
And find a path to where my ashes sleep--
Not the cold heart that merely passes by,
To read who lies beneath, but such as keep
Past memories warm with deeds of other years,
And pay to friendship some few friendly tears

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below

Side of the lane

Theres a little odd house by the side of the Lane

Where the daisy smiles sweet in the spring

Where the morning sun glitters like gold on the pane

& the hedge Sparrow trembles his wing

Where chaffinch green linnet & Sparrows have tones

That make the green Lane & the cottage their own

The sparrows they chirp & make nests i' the eaves

The chaffinch sings ‘pink’ in the hedge o' white thorn

That fences the garden & there the bird weaves

A nest of grey lichen soon as light i' the morn

& there bonny Susan will sit at the door

& see the green linnet at work at its nest

Where the robin flyes in for a crumb on the floor

& seems as if longing to sit on her breast

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below

Suns wi showers

Thines the dandelion-flowers

Gilt wi dew like suns wi showers
Hare bells thine & bugles blue
& cuckoo flowers all sweet to view
Thy wild woad on each road we see
& medicinal betony
By thy wood side railing reeves
Wi antique mullins flannel leaves
These tho mean the flowers of wastes
Planted here in natures haste

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below

Moss strewn mornings

The gatherers seeking entrance pause awhile

Ere they mount up the bank to climb the stile

Half wishing that a better road was nigh

Yet here mid [moss] strewn mornings autumn mild

While pleasing sounds & pleasing sights are bye

Things beautiful delight my heart to smile

Here underneath the stiles moss covered post

A little bunch of fern doth thrive & spring

Hid from the noisey wind & coming frost

Like late reared young neath the wood piegons wing

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below

Spring

SPRING (a)
Welcome gentle breathing Spring
Now the birds are heard to sing
& the budding tree is seen
Putting forth her tender green
O delightful season hail
May my footsteps never fail
When time permits to visit thee
& view thy new born scenery

SPRING (b)
Welcome gentle breathing spring
Now the birds begin to sing
Now the Swelling shade is seen
Putting forth its tender green
While the Suns extended way
Sweetly shows the lengthend day
O delightful Season hail
May my footsteps never fail
When Ive time to trample where
All thy beauties reappear

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below

Bonny March

The bonny March morning is beaming 
In mingled crimson & grey
White clouds are streaking & creaming 
The sky till the noon of the day
The fir deal looks darker & greener
& grass hills below look the same
The air all about is serener
The birds less familiar & tame

Heres two or three flowers for my fair one
Wood primroses & celandine too
I oft look about for a rare one 
To put in a posy for you
The birds look so clean & so neat
Though theres scarcely a leaf on the grove
The sun shines about me so sweet
I cannot help thinking of love

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below

O come to my arms

O come to my arms i' the cool o' the day
When the veil o' the evening falls dewy & grey
O' come to me under the awthorn green
When eventide falls i' the bushes serene
O come to me under the awthorn tree
When the larks on his nest & gone bed is the bee
When the veil of the evening falls dark on the scene
& we'll kiss love and court i' the bushes so green

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below