The meadow flags

The meadow flags now rustle bleached & dank
& misted oer with down as fine as dew
The sloe & dewberry shine along the bank
Where weeds in blooms luxuriance lately grew
Red rose the sun & up the morehen flew
From bank to bank the meadow arches stride
Where foamy floods in winter tumbles through
& spread a restless ocean foaming wide
Where now the cowboys sleep nor fear the coming tide

 

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Rut rifted lane

The cockchafer hums down the rut-rifted lane
Where the wild roses hang and the woodbines entwine,
And the shrill squeaking bat makes his circles again
Round the side of the tavern close by the sign.
The sun is gone down like a wearisome queen,
In curtains the richest that ever were seen.

 

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One continued song

Then thread the sunny valley laced with streams,
Or forests rude, and the oershadowed brims
Of simple ponds, where idle shepherd dreams,
And streaks his listless limbs;
Or trace hay-scented meadows, smooth and long,
Where joy's wild impulse swims
In one continued song.

 

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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd

Woodland balm

Yet still the little path winds on & on 

 Down hedgrow sides & many a pastoral charm 

 We soon forget the charm of poesy gone 

 In the still woodland with its silent balm 

 & find some other joy to dream upon 

 A distant notice of some nestling farm 

 Crowded with russet stacks that peep between 

 Hugh homestead elms or orchards squatting trees 

 Where apples shine sun tanned & mellow green 

 Home comforts for dull winters reveries

 

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Haymakers hustling

Stopt by the storm that long in sullen black
From the south west stained its encroaching track
Haymakers hustling from the rain to hide
Sought the grey willows by the pasture-side
& there while big drops bow the grassy stems
& bleb the withering hay with pearly gems
Dimple the brook & patter in the leaves

The song or tale an hours restraint relieves

 

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The enemy of all

The frog half fearful jumps across the path


& little mouse that leaves its hole at eve


Nimbles with timid dread beneath the swath


My rustling steps awhile their joys deceive


Till past & then the cricket sings more strong


& grasshoppers in merry moods still wear


The short night weary with their fretting song


Up from behind the molehill jumps the hare


Thus natures human link & endless thrall


Proud man still seems the enemy of all


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River bank so green

You promised to meet me at e'en
Beside the river bank so green
You promised & you've never been
Or ever told me why
The white thorn then was in the bud
Now nuts have ripen'd in the wood
Come love again
Lost vows explain
Your absence makes me sigh

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Dancing oak trees

The wood is sweet - I love it well
In spending there my leisure hours
To seek the snail its painted shell
& look about for curious flowers
Or neath the hazels leafy thatch
On a stulp or mossy ground
Little squirrels gambols watch
Dancing oak trees round & round

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Image by my friend #RachelBurch

Scattered clouds

The scattered clouds lie calm and still 
& day throws gold on every hill 
Their thousand heads in glory run 
As each were worlds and owned a sun 
The rime it clings to everything 
It beards the early buds of spring 
The mossy pales, the orchard spray 
Are feathered with its silver-grey

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How could I — how should I

The bird may forget that her nest is begun 
When the snow settles white on the new budding tree 
& nature in tempests forget the bright sun 
But I'll ne'er forget her—that was plighted to me 
How could I—how should I—that loved her so early 
Forget—when I've sung of her beauty in song 
How could I forget—what I've worshiped so dearly 
From boyhood to manhood—& all my life long

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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd

Glooms & living death

So on he lives in glooms & living death 
A shade like night forgetting & forgot 
Insects that kindle in the springs young breath 
Take hold of life & share a brighter lot 
Then he the tennant of the hall & Cot 
The princely palace too hath been his home 
& Gipseys camp when friends would know him not 
In midst of wealth a beggar still to roam

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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd

All that map of boyhood

After long abscence how the mind recalls 
Pleasing associations of the past 
Haunts of his youth—thorn hedges & old walls 
& hollow trees that sheltered from the blast 
& all that map of boyhood overcast 
With glooms & wrongs & sorrows not his own 
That oer his brow like the scathed lightening past 
That turned his spring to winter & alone 
Wrecked name & fame & all—to solitude unknown

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Upon the plain…

Upon the plain there liv’d a swain

A Flock his whole employ
Unknown loves cares & all its snares
To damp his humble joy
Industry toils while Fortune smiles
To bless him with increase
Contentment made his humble trade
A Scene of Health & Peace

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Image by my friend #AnnieLee

Under this tree

Maid of the wilderness,
Sweet in thy rural dress,
Fond thy rich lips I press
Under this tree.

Morning her health bestows,
Sprinkles dews on the rose,
That by the bramble grows:
Maid happy be.
Womanhood round thee glows,
Wander with me.

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Wealthy thieves with knaverys bribes

John Clare commenting on our situation, but in the 1820s.  Prescient…

THE PARISH 

(EXCERPT) 

Tho natures marks are deep that all may scan

A knaves delusions from an honest man 

Oppression often mourns the vile abuse 

& flyes to justice—deemd of little use

Truth that coud once its own redresses seek

Is now deemd nothing & forbid to speak

Driven like an exild king from past renown

Power took its place & keeps it with a frown

But tis well known that justice winks at crimes

A saying thats in season at all times

Or why should the poor sinning starving clown 

Meet jail & hanging for a stolen crown

While wealthy thieves with knaverys bribes endued 

Plunder their millions & are not pursued

Nay at the foot of Tyburns noted tree

They do deserving deeds & still go free

Where others suffer for some pigmy cause

They all but murder & escape the laws

Skulking awhile in briberys dirty den

Then start new gilt & pass as honest men

(lines 1314-1333)

Suns reveal the day

No single hour can stand for nought 

No moment hand can move 

But calenders a aching thought 

Of my first lonely love 

Where silence doth the loudest call 

My secrets to betray 

As moonlight holds the night in thrall 

As suns reveal the day

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A baby…

On the 13th June 1822 Patty and John had a second daughter, Eliza Louisa, but in that two years his world had been turned upside down, he was famous.  But there was sorrow too, as they lost a still-born baby son in June of 1821.

The photo shows a Christening Cup given to Eliza Louisa by her Godmother, Eliza Louise Emmerson for whom she of course was named.  John and Mrs Emmerson carried on a regular correspondence for many years and become firm friends.

After her sister Anna Maria's death in 1844, Eliza Louise was to marry the widowed husband, and her brother-in-law, John Sefton.  They had eight children, and a number of the 'Sefton-Clare' clan are active members of the John Clare Society to this day.

Sweet gem of infant fairy flowers
Thy smiles on lifes unclosing hours
Like sun beams lost in summer showers
     They wake my fears
When reason knows its sweets & sours
     Theyll change to tears

God help thee little sensless thing
Thou daisey like of early spring
Of ambushd winters hornet sting
     Hast yet to tell
Thou knowst not what tomorrows bring—
     I wish thee well

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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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Image by my friend #JohnAbbott

These sweet fields

I rest my wearied life in these sweet fields 

Reflecting every smile in natures face 

& much of joy this grass— These hedges yields 

Not found in citys where crowds daily trace 

Heart pleasures there hath no abideing place 

The star gemmed early morn the silent even 

Hath pleasures that our broken hopes deface 

To love too well leaves nought to be forgiven 

The Gates of Eden is the bounds of heaven

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Hollow echoes wake

And lowing steers that hollow echoes wake
Around the yard, their nightly fast to break,
As from each barn the lumping flail rebounds
In mingling concert with the rural sounds;
While oer the distant fields more faintly creep
The murmuring bleatings of unfolding sheep,
And ploughman's callings that more hoarse proceed
Where industry still urges labour's speed,
And rumbling waggons deafening again,
Rousing the dust along the narrow lane,
And cracking whips, and shepherd's hooting cries,
From woodland echoes urging sharp replies.

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Swarthy summer

Now swarthy summer, by rude health embrowned,
Precedence takes of rosy fingered spring;
And laughing joy, with wild flowers pranked and crowned,
A wild and giddy thing,
And health robust, from every care unbound,
Come on the zephyr's wing,
And cheer the toiling clown.
Happy as holiday-enjoying face,
Loud tongued, and "merry as a marriage bell,"
Thy lightsome step sheds joy in every place;
And where the troubled dwell.

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An Eden

O native endearments! I would not forsake ye,
I would not forsake ye for sweetest of scenes:
For sweetest of gardens that Nature could make me
I would not forsake ye, dear valleys and greens:
Though Nature ne'er dropped ye a cloud-resting mountain,
Nor waterfalls tumble their music so free,
Had Nature denied ye a bush, tree, or fountain,
Ye still had been loved as an Eden by me.

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The meadow flags

The meadow flags now rustle bleached & dank
& misted oer with down as fine as dew
The sloe & dewberry shine along the bank
Where weeds in blooms luxuriance lately grew
Red rose the sun & up the morehen flew
From bank to bank the meadow arches stride
Where foamy floods in winter tumbles through
& spread a restless ocean foaming wide
Where now the cowboys sleep nor fear the coming tide

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My native fields

I cross'd my native fields where the scarlet poppies grew

& the ground lark left his nest like a neighbour which I knew

The pigeons from the dove cote cooed over the old lane

The crow flocks from the oakwood went flopping o'er the grain

Like lots of dear old neighbours whom I shall see no more

They greeted me that morning I left the English shore

The sun was just a rising above the heath o' furze

& the shadows grow to giants that bright ball never stirs

There lay the shepherds with their dogs by their side

& they started up and bark'd as my shadow they espied

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Say what is love

Say What Is Love—To Live In Vain

To Live & Die & Live Again

Say What Is Love—Is It To Be

In Prison Still & Still Be Free

Or Seem As Free—Alone & Prove

The Hopeless Hopes of Real Love

Does Real Love On Earth Exist

Tis Like A Sun beam On The Mist

That Fades & No Where Will Remain

& Nowhere Is Oertook Again

Say What Is Love—A Blooming Name

A Rose Leaf On The Page Of Fame

That Blooms Then Fades—To Cheat No More

& Is What Nothing Was Before

Say What Is Love—What E'er It be

It Centre's Mary Still With Thee

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Workhouse sorrows

With Mary Lee the parish was my lot

& its cold bounty all the friends I got

Dragd from our childhoods pleasures & its plays

We pined in workhouse sorrows many days

Were many wants recievd their scan supply

Were pity never came to check the sigh

Save what laws force from tyrant overseers

Whose bitter gifts was purchased with our tears

There ragd & starvd & workd beyond our powers

We toild those hours you spend in gathering flowers

Nor mothers smiles had we our toils to cheer

But tyrants frowns & threatnings ever near

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This sweet lane is seen

The pilewort glitters neath the pale blue sky

The little robin has its nest begun

& grass green linnets round the bushes fly

How Mild the Spring Comes in—the daisy buds

Lift up their golden blossoms to the sky

How lovely are the pingles & the woods

Here a beetle runs—& there a fly

Rests on the Arum leaf in bottle green

& all the Spring in this Sweet lane is seen

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Image by my friend #RachelBurch