When Clare wrote this poem - in 1841 - Mary Joyce had been dead for 3 years. She, of course, was never his wife.
Did I
know where to meet thee
Thou
dearest in life
How soon
would I greet thee
My true
love & wife
How soon
would I meet thee
At close
of the day
Though
cares would still cheat me
If Mary
would meet me
I'd kiss
her sweet beauty & love them away
And when
evening discovers
The sun
in the West
I long
like true lovers
To lean
on thy breast
To meet
thee my dearest —
Thy eyes
beaming blue
Absence
pains the severest
Feel
Mary's the dearest
And if
Mary's absence — how can I be true
How dull
the glooms cover
This meadow & fen
Where I
as a lover
Seek Mary
again
But
silence is teasing
Wherever
I stray
There's
nothing seems pleasing
Or aching
thoughts easing
Though
Mary lives near me — she seems far away
O would
these gales murmur
My love
in her ear
Or a
bird’s note inform her
While I
linger here
But
nature contrary
Turns
night into day
No bird —
gale — or fairy
Can
whisper to Mary
To tell
her who seeks her—while Mary's away
(Lines
567 - 602)
The Oxford
Authors: John Clare
ed. Eric Robinson and David Powell (Oxford , 1984)
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