Fragrant in the mellow year

O much I love thee autumn sere

When fragrant in the mellow year

While dropping leaves & blossoms dead

Makes pillows for thy sunny bed

While faint short wirlwinds puffing bye

Breaths thy latest symphony

& much I love thy checkerd gloom

& dear I love thy waning moon

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Image from the prolific studio of #CarryAkroyd

Home of homes

Ive left my own old home of homes

Green fields & every pleasant place

The summer like a stranger comes

I pause & hardly know her face

I miss the hazels happy green

The bluebells quiet hanging blooms

Where envys sneer was never seen

Where staring malice never comes

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Photo of Clare’s cottage with his statue

Ripened hues

A beauty on the scene attends
Ere autumn comes and summer ends,
When summer's glory first we see
As stained with its mortality.

Each morn wakes wan, its sunlight wanes
On yellowing leaves and fading plains;
Green fields no more the summer views,
All sickened into ripened hues

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Down padded pathways

What time the cricket unmolested sings

& blundering beetles try their clumbsy wings

Leave me to meet the sweets of evens hour

By awthorn hedges when the mays in flower

Wi light enough to guide my cautious tread 

As not to trample on the daiseys head

Down padded pathways of a wisht extent

As unmolested by the bending bent

  

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A long patrole

While the village chimleys curl their smoke

& nature all seems sad & dying in despair

The squirking rabbit scarcly leaves her hole

But rolls in torpid slumbers all the day

The fox is loath to gin a long patrole

& scouts the woods content wi meaner prey

  

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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd

Crowds of trees.

The woods how lovely with their crowds of trees


Each towering over each like hills oer hills


The oaks excess for darkest covert made


The mind with a sublime of pleasure fills


Then winged ash more sparingly displayed


A lightness oer the pensive eye distills


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Photo?  Trees in my garden.

Still the grazing kine

So did its sunshine warm my brow

& sure it gleams as lovely now

Tis full as still the grazing kine

Make but sweet music in their noise

The sweetest flowers it owns are mine

Free gifts & so are all its joys 

The trees their friendly arms extend

& bid me welcome to their shade

The old molehills their welcomes lend

As if for rest on purpose made

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The little path winds on & on

While sauntering noiseless oer the leafy ground
The air we breathe seems void of every trace
Of earth & all its trouble & the mind
Yearns for a dwelling in so sweet a place
From troubles noise such stillness seemeth by

Yet still the little path winds on & on
Down hedgerow sides & many a pastoral charm
We soon forget the charm of poesy gone
In the still woodland with its silent balm

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The summer’s voice is still

The autumn's come again


& the clouds descend in rain


& the leaves they are falling from the wood


The summer's voice is still


Save the clacking of the mill


& the lowly muttered thunder of the flood


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By September

How delightfuly pleasant when the cool chilling air


By september is thrown oer the globe


When each morning both hedges and bushes do wear


Instead of their green—a grey robe.


To see the sun rise thro the skirts of the wood


In his mantle so lovley and red


It cheers up my spirits and does me much good


As thro the cold stubbles I tred

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The white-thorn tree

Who loves the white-thorn tree,

And the river running free?

There a maiden stood with me

In  Summer weather.

Near a cottage far from town,

While the sun went brightly down

Oer the meadows green and brown,

We loved together.

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On thy gentle stream

Upon thy winding side wild gwash I lie 

Viewing with curious eye the silver bream 

Taking vaunting springs to trap the thoughtless flye 

That heedless dances on thy gentle stream 

The black snail wakens from the swoons of day 

& from the boughs that nestle by thy side 

The light wing'd moths steal out again to play 

Crossing with hasty wing thy rippling tide

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The nearest way

The passing hours jogd on apace 

& in their progress seemd to say 

‘Haste & gain that destind place 

 Or soon thoult loose the flitting day’ 

 I instantly obeyd their call 

 Nor went to where the foot pad lay 

 But clamberd oer an old rough wall 

 & stole across the nearest way 

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Mist simmers thin

The heavy thick mist hangs over the sun

The grass is all wet wi the dew

I cannot come out to thee Roger till noon

Fear o' spoiling my sealskin shoe

No mists need to tarry my Jenny till noon

The mist simmers thin on the hill

Sun beams getting yellow will master him soon

& ye may walk out if ye will

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The mingling dye

The clouds of purple & of crimson dye

Were huddled up together in a heap

And oer the scented wide worlds edge did lie

Resting as quiet as if lulled to sleep

I gazed upon them with a wishing eye

& longed but vainly for the painters power

To give existence to the mingling dye

& snatch a beauty from an evening hour

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Web is spun

How fine the spider's web is spun

Unnoticed to vulgar eyes

Its silk thread glittering in the sun

Arts bungling vanity defies

Roaming where the dewey field

Neath its morning burthen leans

While its crops my searches shield

Sweet I scent the blossomd beans

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The low of the cow

The Blackbird Has Built In The Pasture Agen

& The Thorn Oer The Pond Shows A Delicate Green
Where I Strolled With Patty Adown In The Glen
& Spent Summer Evenings & Sundays Unseen
How Sweet The Hill Brow
& The Low Of The Cow
& The Sunshine That Gilded The Bushes So Green

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 Photo by my friend #JohnAbbott

The dewey cheek of morning

The red east glows the dewey cheek of morning 

 Has not yet me[t] the suns oerpowering smile 

The dew drop in its beauty still is dawning 

The wet bush we past soon as touchd it woud drop 

& the grass neath our feet was as wet as a mop 

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Photo by my friend #JohnAbbott

Faded colours mournd

The fading Autumn all resighnd
As consious of her dying state
Th’influence of the Sun declind
& hopeless yielded to her fate
The Trees their faded colours mournd
& shepherds with a tearfull eye
Reviewd their changes as they turnd
& thought of winter with a sigh

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The meadow brook

The gipsey down the meadow brook 

 Wi long pole & a reaping hook 

Tyd at its end amid the streams 

That glitters wi the hot sunbeams 

Reaches and cuts the bulrush down 

& hawks them round each neighboring town

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Meek innoscence

Fair emblemn of meek innoscence 

Sweet modest flower with thee 

My Chloes matchles excellence 

Exactly does agree 

& o how charming is her face 

Just like the snowdrop flower 

It gives to every downcast grace 

In love—A double power

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Early photo (1860) by #LadyClementineHarwardine

A scarlet host display

In every place where feathered warblers sing 

Wild flowers in armies come — so beautiful is Spring

The garish Summer comes with many tribes 

Of gay & gaudy flowers in bright array

But the hot sun the cloudy morning bribes

& dries all moisture with his scorching ray

Corn-poppies oft a scarlet host display

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Natures sweetest pledge

The blackbird startles from the homestead hedge,


Raindrops and leaves fall yellow as he springs;


Such images are natures sweetest pledge,


To me there's music in his rustling wings.


‘Prink, prink,’ he cries, and loud the robin sings;


The small hawk like a shot drops from the sky


Close to my feet for mice and creeping things.


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Image by #CarryAkroyd 

Misty morning

Sweet come the misty morning in September

Among the dewy paths 'tis sweet to stray

Greensward or stubbles as I well remember

I have done & the mist it curleth grey

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Love lies bleeding

True love lies bleeding every hour 

Still 'tis heavens eternal flower 

Blooming by the lovers bower 

Eternal love 

Sun's may lower and storms may rise 

Heaven and earth may loose their skies 

Yet naught shall dim in those bright eyes 

That truely love

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Another wonderful photo from #LadyClementiaHarwarden in 1860

Timid hares

One gloomy eve I roamd about

Neath oxeys hazel bowers

While timid hares were daring out

To crop the dewy flowers

& soothing was the scene to me

Right placid was my soul

My breast was calm as summers sea

When waves forget to roll

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Image by #CarryAkroyd

Accursed wealth

Accursed wealth oer bounding human laws
Of every evil thou remains the cause
Victims of want those wretches such as me
Too truly lay their wretchedness to thee
Thou art the bar that keeps from being fed
& thine our loss of labour & of bread
Thou art the cause that levels every tree
& woods bow down to clear a way for thee 

Written by  #JohnClare in 1820, what has changed in 200 years?

Book still available from me £4.00 + P&P.

Glitter like pearls

I walk round the orchard on sweet summer eves
& rub the perfume from the black currant leaves
Which like the geranium when touched leaves a smell
That lads love & sweet briar can hardly excell
& watch the things grow all begemed with the shower
That glitter like pearls in a sunshiny hour

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Sauntering noiseless

So dreamy is the light that dwells around 


& so refreshing is its sombre mood 


We feel at once shut out from sun & sky 


All the deliciousness of solitude 


While sauntering noisless oer the leafy ground

The air we breath seems loosing every trace 


Of earth & all its trouble & the mind


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