An April daisy

Welcome old Maytey peeping once again

Our meeting minds me of a pleasent hour
Springs pencil pinks thy cheek that blushy stain
& Summer glistens in thy tinty flower

Hail Beautys gem disdaining time nor place
Carlessly creeping on the dunghills side
Demeanour softens in thy crimpled face
& Decks thee with a charm unknown to pride

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A little mouse

Nay dont be alarmed & start up from the hay 
Thats nought but a little mouse running away 
& now she finds out we're not foes to destroy 
Do but hear in the grass how she chitters for joy 
No doubt in the beans nigh at hand may sojourn 
Her childern awaiting her mothers return 
See there where the willow bends over the brook 
At our feet like an old shepherd over his crook 
Neath its boughs Gnats & midges are still at their play 
Like ball rooms of faireys all dancing away

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Farm Cat

Now the cat has ta'en her seat, 
With her tail curled round her feet; 
Patiently she sits to watch 
Sparrows fighting on the thatch. 
Now Doll brings the expected pails, 
And dogs begin to wag their tails; 
With strokes and pats they're welcomed in, 
And they with looking wants begin; 
Slove in the milk-pail brimming o'er, 
She pops their dish behind the door. 
Prone to mischief boys are met, 
Neath the eaves the ladder's set, 
Sly they climb in softest tread, 
To catch the sparrow on his bed; 
Massacred, O cruel pride! 
Dashed against the ladder's side. 
Curst barbarians! pass me by; 
Come not, Turks, my cottage nigh; 
Sure my sparrows are my own, 
Let ye then my birds alone

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Early nightingales

When first we hear the shy-come nightingales
They seem to mutter oer their songs in fear
And, climb we eer so soft the spinney rails
All stops as if no bird was anywhere
The kindled bushes with the young leaves thin
Let curious eyes to search a long way in
Until impatience cannot see or hear
The hidden music; gets but little way
Upon the path--when up the songs begin
Full loud a moment and then low again
But when a day or two confirms her stay
Boldly she sings and loud for half the day
And soon the village brings the woodman's tale
Of having heard the newcome nightingale

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Balm & Breezes

The Paigles Bloom In Showers In Grassy Close

How Sweet To Be Among Their Blossoms Led
& Hear Sweet Nature To Herself Discourse
While Pale The Moon Is Bering Over Head

& Hear The Grazeing Cattle Softly Tread

Cropping The Hedgerows Newly Leafing Thorn
Sounds Soft As Visions Murmured Oer In Bed
At Dusky Eve Or Sober Silent Morn
For Such Delights Twere Happy Man Was Born

Now Come The Balm & Breezes Of The Spring

Not With The Pleasures Of My Early Days
When Nature Seemed One Endless Song To Sing
A Joyous Melody & Happy Praise
Ah Would They Come Agen—But Life Betrays
Quicksands & Gulphs & Storms That Howl & Sting
All Quiet Into Madness & Delays
Care Hides The Sunshine With Its Raven Wing
& Hell Glooms Sadness Oer The Songs Of Spring

At this period in 1841 Clare capitalised every word in his manuscripts.  No one has yet come up with a convincing explanation as to why

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A flush of green

Though 'neath young Aprils watery sky
The sun gleam'd warm & roads were dry
& though the valleys bush & tree

Still naked stood yet on the lea 
A flush of green & fresh'ning glow
In melting patches 'gan to show 
That swelling buds would soon again 
In summers livery bless the plain
The thrushes too 'gan clear their throats
& got by heart some two'r three notes 
Of their intended summer song
To cheer me as I stroll'd along

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Behind the screen

Man is an insect life his cell
Nor lives he till death breaks the shell
He dreameth here & waketh there
So what forsooth hath life to heir? 
A painted nothing of the mind
Whose peace we hunt & never find
A fairy-tale of what hath been
Where all is heard & nothing seen
A mystic show which thoughts devise
A rumour clothed in prophecies
A dream unmarred a hope deferred
Here all is fancy nothing heard
Anon man peeps behind the screen
The spell is out the show is seen

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