A second daughter…


On the 13th June 1822 Patty and John had a second daughter, Eliza Louisa, but in that two years his world had been turned upside down, he was famous.  But there was sorrow too, as they lost a still-born baby son in June of 1821.

The photo shows a Christening Cup given to Eliza Louisa by her Godmother, Eliza Louise Emmerson for whom she of course was named.  John and Mrs Emmerson carried on a regular correspondence for many years and become firm friends.

After her sister Anna Maria's death in 1844, Eliza Louise was to marry the widowed husband, and her brother-in-law, John Sefton.  They had eight children, and a number of the 'Sefton-Clare' clan are active members of the John Clare Society, and this weblog to this day.

Sweet gem of infant fairy flowers
Thy smiles on lifes unclosing hours
Like sun beams lost in summer showers
     They wake my fears
When reason knows its sweets & sours
     Theyll change to tears

God help thee little sensless thing
Thou daisey like of early spring
Of ambushd winters hornet sting
     Hast yet to tell
Thou knowst not what tomorrows bring—
     I wish thee well

#poetry #environment 
#honesty

Comments welcome below

Rut-rifted lane


The cockchafer hums down the rut-rifted lane
Where the wild roses hang & the woodbines entwine
& the shrill squeaking bat makes his circles again
Round the side of the tavern close by the sign
The sun is gone down like a wearisome queen,
In curtains the richest that ever were seen

The dew falls on flowers in a mist of small rain
& beating the hedges low fly the barn owls
The moon with her horns is just peeping again
& deep in the forest the dog-badger howls
In best bib & tucker then wanders my Jane
By the side of the woodbines which grow in the lane

#poetry #environment 
#honesty

Comments welcome below

My last shilling


O dismal disaster O troublesome lot 
What a heart rending theme for my musing Ive got 
Then pray whats the matter O friend Im not willing 
The thought grieves me sore 
Now Im drove to the shore 
& must I then spend the last shilling the shilling 
& must I then spend the last shilling 

O painful reflection thou whole of my store 
That for these three months in my breeches Ive wore 
To spend thee to spend thee that thought turns me chilling 
O must I in spight 
Of all reason this night 
A Farwell bid to my last shilling my shilling 
A Farwell bid to my last shilling

#poetry #environment 
#honesty

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Turnd to night


The timid hare seems half its fears to lose
Crouching & sleeping 'neath its grassy lair
& scarcely startles tho' the shepherd goes 
Close by its home & dogs are barking there
The wild colt only turns around to stare 
At passer by then knaps his hide again
& moody crows beside the road forbear 
To fly tho' pelted by the passing swain
Thus day seems turnd to night & tries to wake in vain
The owlet leaves her hiding-place at noon
& flaps her grey wings in the doubting light
The hoarse jay screams to see her out so soon
& small birds chirp & startle with affright

#poetry #environment 
#honesty

Comments welcome below

Sudden shower


Stopt by the storm that long in sullen black

From the south west stained its encroaching track
Haymakers hustling from the rain to hide
Sought the grey willows by the pasture side
& there while big drops bow the grassy stems
& bleb the withering hay with pearly gems
Dimple the brook & patter in the leaves
The song or tale an hours restraint relieves
& while the old dames gossip at their ease

#poetry #environment 
#honesty

Comments welcome below


Bluebells


Bluebells how beautifull & bright they look 
Bowed oer green moss & pearled in morning dew 
Shedding a shower of pearls as soon as shook 
In every wood hedgegap theyre shineing through 
Smelling of spring & beautifully blue 
Childhood & Spring how beautifully dwells 
Their memories in the woods we now walk through 
O balmy days of spring in white thorn dells 
How beautifull are woods & their bluebells


Image: Late flowering bluebells on Dartmoor.  
Always an amazing sight.
#poetry #environment 
#honesty

Comments welcome below 

Daisys


While on the sunny bank the daisys seem
With smiling charms to court the clowns esteem
Nor do they spread their smiling charms in vain
His bosom warms enrapturd at the sight
With secret pleasure & unknown delight
His swelling soul to memorys treasure flies
& strives to speak—but Ignorance denies


#poetry #environment 
#honesty

Comments welcome below