tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7615986.post109488655704140950..comments2023-09-23T12:27:48.199+01:00Comments on John Clare Weblog: To Anna Three Years OldUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7615986.post-1096310488739318462004-09-27T19:41:00.000+01:002004-09-27T19:41:00.000+01:00A reading of John Clare's poetry will take place b...A reading of John Clare's poetry will take place by the portico outside All Saints Church, Northampton,where he sat when he walked in from the hospital in Billing Road.<br />Taking place on National Poetry Day 7th October at 7pm. Light a candle for John Clare. <br />Peter Mulligan. <br />Project co-ordinator<br />Tel. 01604-715793<br />pmcelt@aol.comAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7615986.post-1095170819918974572004-09-14T15:06:00.000+01:002004-09-14T15:06:00.000+01:00Probably all the more poignant because we don't kn...Probably all the more poignant because we don't know the outcome, I guess...<br /><br />(But you <I>have</I> met me before, you know....through IM'ing with Amatire/Sæuðr.)Arevanyehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17925809241943788028noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7615986.post-1095146399414637172004-09-14T08:19:00.000+01:002004-09-14T08:19:00.000+01:00Do tell me that the story behind this poem turns o...Do tell me that the story behind this poem turns out well! <br /><br />"But thou art on the bed of pain,<br />So tells each poor forsaken toy."<br /><br />Wish I knew. But that is all there is. Nice to meet you!Arborfieldhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09378273311339123481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7615986.post-1095039713748722592004-09-13T02:41:00.000+01:002004-09-13T02:41:00.000+01:00Do tell me that the story behind this poem turns o...Do tell me that the story behind this poem turns out well! <br /><br />"But thou art on the bed of pain,<br />So tells each poor forsaken toy."<br /><br />This poem reminds me of that one by William Wordsworth, here are a few of the stanzas:<br /><br /><I>THREE YEARS SHE GREW IN SUN AND SHOWER<br /><br />THREE years she grew in sun and shower, <br />Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower <br />On earth was never sown; <br />This Child I to myself will take; <br />She shall be mine, and I will make <br />A Lady of my own. <br /><br />"Myself will to my darling be <br />Both law and impulse: and with me <br />The Girl, in rock and plain, <br />In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, <br />Shall feel an overseeing power <br />To kindle or restrain. <br /><br />"She shall be sportive as the fawn <br />That wild with glee across the lawn, <br />Or up the mountain springs; <br />And her's shall be the breathing balm, <br />And her's the silence and the calm <br />Of mute insensate things. </I>Unfortunately, his poem ends sadly too!<br /><br /><I>Thus Nature spake--The work was done-- <br />How soon my Lucy's race was run! <br />She died, and left to me <br />This heath, this calm, and quiet scene; <br />The memory of what has been, <br />And never more will be. </I>I hope his Anna got better...Arevanyehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17925809241943788028noreply@blogger.com