Summer suns

Cheerd by the rural objects as we pass
To were trees shadows keepeth green the grass
Checking intrusions of the summer suns
There drop us down close were the river runs

In sight of rural sounds & pleasing strife

That warms the laughing landscape into life
& while in cheerfull mirth as we prepare
Our sporting things & bait our angles there
With flye or fish of artificial forms
To shun the anguish of the wreathing worms

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Can I carry your books?

O throw aside those carless ways
My conscous heart to move
Affected anger but betrays
Suspicous doubts of love
That face were frowns at will can dwell
Were cold deciet beguiles
May just as easy & as well
Dissemble while it smiles
Tis cruel when false smiles betrays
The heart into a snare
But crueler when slighting ways
Turns pleasures to despair

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Helpston in 1830

On the 24th July 1830 Sophia was born to Patty and John - the family then consisted then of 6 children, Anna (10), Eliza (8 ), Freddy (6) John (4), William (2), and baby Sophia. Grandfather Parker (70) and Ann (66) made up the crowded household of 10 all living in the tenement in Woodgate (a quarter of what is now called ‘Clare Cottage’). What a struggle it must have been, seeking to support such a family.

When with our little ones we spent

Each Sunday after tea,

And up the wood's dark side we went

Or pasture's rushy lea,

To look among the woodland boughs

To find the bird's retreat,

Or crop the cowslip for the cows;

Then sat to rest the little feet

In many a pleasant place,

And see the lambs, who tried to bleat,

Come first in every race,

Then laugh'd the children's joys to view,

Who ran across the lea

At birds that from the rushes flew,

And many a wandering bee.

Daily #JohnClare postings. 

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Spirit of the woods

Spirit of the woods awake

In thy wildest dress appear
Trace with me the curdled brake
Sound thy wildness in my ear
Genius of the woods that dwells
Sweeping boughs & grains among
As I climb thy rough rude dells
Breath thy roughness in my song

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Image by my friend #AnnieLee

The old fox

He lay upon the furrow stretched for dead,
The old dog lay and licked the wounds that bled,
The ploughman beat him till his ribs would crack,
And then the shepherd slung him at his back;
And when he rested, to his dog's surprise,
The old fox started from his dead disguise;
And while the dog lay panting in the sedge
He up and snapt and bolted through the hedge.

Daily #JohnClare postings. 

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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd

Liberty?

O england boasted land of liberty 

Wi strangers still thou mayst thy title own 

But thy poor slaves the alteration see 

Wi many a loss to them the truth is known 

Like emigrating bird thy freedoms flown 

While mongrel clowns low as their rooting plough 

Disdain thy laws to put in force their own 

& every village owns its tyrants now 

& parish slaves must live as parish kings alow

(1821)

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Image by my friend #AnnieLee 

Tracking fields

Now tracking fields where passenger appears 

As wading to his waist in crowding grain 

Where ever as we pass the bending ears 

Pat at our sides & gain their place again 

Then crooked stile with little steps that aids 

The climbing meets us—& the pleasant grass 

& hedgrows old with arbours ready made 

For weariness to rest in pleasant shades 

Daily #JohnClare postings. 

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