Chirping to the door

Among the orchard weeds from every search
Snugly and sure the old hens nest is made
Who cackles every morning from her perch
To tell the servant girl new eggs are laid
Who lays her washing by & far & near
Goes seeking all about from day to day
& stung with nettles tramples everywhere
But still the cackling pullet lays away
The boy on Sundays goes the stack to pull
In hopes to find her there but naught is seen
& takes his hat & thinks to find it full
Shes laid so long so many might have been
But naught is found & all is given oer
Till the young brood come chirping to the door

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below

The holly bush

The holly bush a sober lump of green
Shines through the leafless shrubs all brown & grey
& smiles at winter be it eer so keen
With all the leafy luxury of May
& O it is delicious when the day
In winters loaded garment keenly blows
& turns her back on sudden falling snows
To go where gravel pathways creep between
Arches of evergreen that scarce let through
A single feather of the driving storm
& in the bitterest day that ever blew
The walk will find some places still & warm
Where dead leaves rustle sweet & give alarm
To little birds that flirt & start away

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below

Lonley shades

The arching groves & walks so dark 
All appear in mem'rys eye 
With deep regret I view'd the spire 
Which told the busy vil so nigh 
For lonley shades are my desire 
Far from the reach of human eye 
The foot pad turning to the town 
No longer provd alone to me 
Loud noisy murmurs filld the air 
& spoild my deep sollemnity 
The passing hours jog'd on apace 
& in their progress seem'd to say 
‘Haste and gain that destind place

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below

Fen

The dreary fen a waste of water goes,

With nothing to be seen but Royston crows;
The traveller journeying on the road for hours
Sees nothing but the dykes and water-flowers.
The lonely lodges scattered miles away
Lock up from fear and robbers all the day;
The merry maiden that no place dislikes
Runs out and fills her kettle from the dykes.
She hurries wildly from the face of men
And knows no company but cock and hen.
Here highland maiden sees in Sunday's hour
The glorious sight of sainfoin grounds in flower,
And meets the savoury smells that wake the morn,
The woodbine hedges and the poppied corn.

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below

Heaths

Ye brown heaths be cloathed in furze as ye be 
My wild eye in rapture adores e'ery feature 
Yere as dear as this heart in my bosom to me 
O native endearments I woud not forsake ye 
I woud not forsake ye for sweetest of scenes 
For sweetest of gardens that nature coud make me 
I woud not forsake ye dear vallies & greens 
Tho nature neer dropt thee a cloud resting mountain 
Nor water falls tumble their music to thee 
Had nature denyd thee a bush tree or fountain 
Thou still woud bin lovd as an eden by me

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below

Peaceful windings

Wereover many a stile neeth willows grey
The winding footpath leaves the public way
Free from the dusty din & ceasless chime
Of bustling waggons in the summer time
Crossing a brook—were braving storms in vain
Two willows fell & still for brigs remain
Corn field & clover closes leading down
In peacful windings to the neighbouring town

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below

Patty

To mark Patty Clare’s 226th birthday today, some simple lines Clare wrote to Patty around 200 years ago: 

O once I had a true love
As blest as I could be
Patty was my turtle dove
& Patty she loved me
We walked the fields together
By roses & woodbine
In Summers sunshine weather
& Patty she was mine

We stopped to gather primroses
& violets white & blue
In pastures & green closes
All glistening with the dew
We sat upon green mole-hills
Among the daisy flowers
To hear the small birds merry trills
& share the sunny hours

I will be speaking: 11am Saturday, 28th March 

At the John Clare Cottage in Helpston

to the title, “The Woke John Clare”

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Comments welcome below