The Poet in Love

Book Two of our Handmade, limited edition trilogy.

Come to my bosom my only thought pleasure

Prove that thou lovst to give pleasure to me

Come to my bosom my lone valud treasure
As all that can please me is resting wi thee

Come to my bosom that waits thy complying
Like the parchd earth in the summer the rain
Love in thy absence droops languid & dying
& only revives when it meets thee again

When I think on thee life half its load looses
When I enjoy what thy presence can bring
Sorrow half charmd into sorrow reposes
& pain melts wi kindness to lay by his sting

Come then to me wi thy fondness revealed
Softly to mine let thy blushing cheek bend
One wish Ill breathe wi my lips to thine sealed
Our trance may in heaven awake at its end

The very real story of Clare's meeting and courtship of Patty Turner, then her subsequent pregnancy and their marriage in 1820.

A review from Ronald Blythe:
"I read, and re-read 'The Poet in Love'... it is a delight; beautifully presented and even revolutionary in its demand that we should look at Clare 'passionately and practically'. You have re-instated Patty... and you have dethroned Mary Joyce. The book makes us look at Clare in a fresh way, and this is no easy matter considering the stream of Clare criticism. Anne Lee's illustrations are fascinating - a kind of poetry in themselves."

"So beautiful, such treasures for my John Clare bookcase. They should lie on a table where everyone can see them, pick them up and delight in them. The end-papers themselves are a treat... they really are very beautiful." (Of The Poet in Love & The Lovers Meeting)

And from Eric Robinson's Afterword to 'The Poet in Love': 

"No one can read this book without learning much of Clare's courtship of Patty during these formative years. It is a very strange story, but it reveals much of the essential character of a poet who had at last been recognised as a very great writer. Roger Rowe and Anne Lee have made an important contribution to Clare studies. And I am pleased to know that more is yet to come from their joint efforts."

Each book is signed and numbered and is available direct from me.  Simply email arborfield@gmail.com or message me via the John Clare Poet facebook page, and I will get back to you.

Each book measures 11" x 8"

"The Poet in Love" is £25 (Post free)

From 'The Old Shepherd'

The green where I tended my sheep when a boy
Has yielded its pride to the plough

& the shades where my infancy revelled in joy
The axe has left desolate now

Yet a bush lingers still that invites me to stop
What heart can such whimsies withstand
Where Susan once saw a birds nest in its top
& I reached her the eggs with my hand

& so long since the day I remember it well
It has stretched to a sizable tree
& the birds yearly come in its branches to dwell
As far from a jiant as me

On a favourite spot by the side of a brook
When Susan was just in her prime
A ripe bunch of nutts from her apron she took
& planted them close by my side

It has grown up with years & on many a bough
Groweth nutts like its parent agen
Where shepherds no doubt have oft sought them ere now
To please other susans since then

(MP III 444)

The Gothic John Clare

Gothic literature is often described with words such as "wonder" and "terror.” These senses, to which must be added the suspension of disbelief, are important to Gothic writing of all kinds, perhaps saving when it is parodied.

Notwithstanding the occasional melodrama, gothic writing is typically played straight, in a very serious manner. All that is required is that the imagination of the reader is willing to accept the idea that there might be something "beyond that which is immediately in front of us."

The Gothic often uses scenery of decay, death, and morbidity to achieve its effects . Nearly two centuries after Clare penned most of  these poems they maintain a dark and mysterious appeal.

 Soft as creeping feet can fall

 Still the damp green stained wall

 As the startled ghost flits bye

 Mocking murmurs faintly sigh

 Minding our intruding fear

 Such visits are unwelcome here

 Seemly then each hollow urn

 Gentle steps our steps return

 Ere so soft & ere so still

 Check our breath or how we will

 Listning spirits still reply

 Step for step & sigh for sigh

 Murmuring oer ones wearied woe

 Life as once was theirs to know

(Solitude, lines 281-294)