Delightfully pleasant

With the settled weather we are promised for the coming week, a poem from Clare which beautifully summarises what many will feel this September.

How delightfuly pleasant when the cool chilling air
By September is thrown o’er the globe
When each morning both hedges and bushes do wear
Instead of their green—a grey robe.
To see the sun rise thro the skirts of the wood
In his mantle so lovely and red
It cheers up my spirits and does me much good
As thro the cold stubbles I tread.

Tho’ not that his beams more advances the scene
Or adds to the Landscape a charm
But all that delights me by him may be seen
That the ensuing hours will be warm.
And this with the poet as yet in the world
In a parallel sense will comply
For when he does view the gay scenes there unfurl'd
‘Tis only to light him on high.

Follow for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry  #environment #truth #honesty

Betokening rain

Black grows the southern sky betokening rain
& humming hive-bees homeward hurry bye
They feel the change so let us shun the grain
& take the broad road while our feet are dry
Ay there some dropples moistened on my face
& pattered on my hat tis coming nigh
Lets look about & find a sheltering place
The little things around like you & I
Are hurrying through the grass to shun the shower
Here stoops an ash-tree hark the wind gets high
But never mind this ivy for an hour
Rain as it may will keep us dryly here
That little wren knows well his sheltering bower
Nor leaves his dry house though we come so near

Follow for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry  #environment #truth #honesty

Like to shadows

Partly from the Scripture

Written in Sickness

Our years look behind us like tales that are told
Our days like to shadows keep passing us bye
That takes a short step to our pillow of mould
& rise on lifes stage like to vapours & dye 

.
As frail as the grass of the meadow is man
His youth like the blossom of summer comes on
That smiles to the sunbeam till autumn turns wan
& the wind passes oer it & bids it be gone 

.
Thus one generation keeps passing away
& new generations their places retain
& the friends of our bosom that leave us to day
Shall neer fill the circle of friendship again

Follow for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry  #environment #truth #honesty

Harvest home

As rests warm rapture rousd the rustics lay
The thread bare ballad from each quavering tongue
As ‘peggy bond’ or the ‘sweet month of may’
As how he joyd to hear each ‘good old song’
That on nights pausing ear did echo loud & strong
The muse might sing too for he well did know
The freaks & plays that harvest home doth end
How the last load is crownd wi boughs & how
Wi floating ribbons diznd at their end
The swains & maids wi fork & rake attend
& how the children on the load delight
Wi shouts of harvest home their throats to rend
& how the dames peep out to mark the sight
& all the feats that crown the harvest supper night

Follow for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry  #environment #truth #honesty

Harvest morn

Cocks wake the early morn wi' many a Crow
Loud ticking village clock has counted four
The labouring rustic hears his restless foe
& weary bones & pains complaining sore
Hobbles to fetch his horses from the moor
Some busy 'gin to team the loaded corn
Which night throng'd round the barns becrouded door
Such plentious scenes the farmers yards adorn
Such busy bustling toils now mark the harvest morn

Follow for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry  #environment #truth #honesty

Secret shower

How beautiful & fresh the pastoral smell 

    of tedded hay breathes in this early mom
Health in these meadows must in summer dwell
    & take her walks among these fields of corn
I cannot see her yet her voice is out
    On every breeze that fans my hair about
Although the sun is scarcely out of bed
    & leans on ground as half awake from sleep
The boy hath left his mossy-thatched shed
    & bawls right lustily to cows and sheep

Oor taken with the woodbines overspread
    Climbs up to pluck them from their thorny bower
Half drowned by dropples pattering on his head
    From leaves bemoistened by nights secret shower

Follow for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry  #environment #truth #honesty

Like an april storm

The cleanly maiden thro the village streets
In pattens clicks down causways never drye
While eaves above head drops—where oft she meets
The school boy leering on wi mischiefs eye
Trying to splash her as he hurrys bye
While swains afield returning to their ploughs
Their passing aid wi gentle speech apply
& much loves rapture thrills when she allows
Their help wi offerd hand to lead her oer the sloughs
The hedger soakd wi the dull weather chops
On at his toils which scarcly keeps him warm
& every stroke he takes large swarms of drops
Patter about him like an april storm

Follow for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry  #environment #truth #honesty