Thy spirit visits me like dew (excerpt)

The wild flowers have a feeling
O'er my calm senses stealing
And love's soft dreams revealing
Seem wispering from the bowers

The foxgloves freckled bells
That blossom by the wood
And in the forrest dells
In the midst of solitude

There I hear my lover call
Where the whitethorn forms a wall
And the foxglove blossoms tall
In the tears of eve bedewed

The Later Poems of John Clare 1837-1864

ed. Eric Robinson and David Powell

(Oxford, 2 volumes, I-II, 1984)