Mistletoe

Amidst the wreck of perishable leaves

How box or holly garden walks relieves

How fresh & fine appears the evergreen

How bright the ivy round the oak is seen

& on old thorns the long leaved mistletoe

While dark spurge laurel on the banks below

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Bird of the morn

Bird of the morn

When roseate clouds begin
To show the opening dawn
Thou gladly sing'st it in
& o'er the sweet green fields & happy vales
Thy pleasant song is heard mixed with the morning gales

Bird of the morn
What time the ruddy sun
Smiles on the pleasant corn
Thy singing is begun
Heartfelt & cheering over labourers toil
Who chop in coppice wild & delve the russet soil

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Spirit of the woods

Spirit of the woods awake

In thy wildest dress appear
Trace with me the curdled brake
Sound thy wildness in my ear
Genius of the woods that dwells
Sweeping boughs & grains among
As I climb thy rough rude dells
Breath thy roughness in my song

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O Native Scenes

O Native Scenes for ever dear
So blest so happy as I here have been
So charmd with nature in each varied scene
To leave you all is cutting and severe.
Ye hawthorn bushes that from winds would screen
Where oft Ive shelterd from a threatend shower
In youths past bliss in childhoods happy hour
Ye woods Ive wandered seeking out the nest
Ye meadows gay that rear'd rae many a flower
Where pulling cowslips Ive been doubly blest

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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd

Love is …

Love is the beating heart
That ever hidden secret of the soul
Of faith & life a living part
That animates the whole
Tis in the bright eyes hidden
On beating bosoms seen
No where on earth forbidden
& woman is its queen

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Annual cheer

Neighbours resume their annual cheer
Wishing with smiles & spirits high
Glad Christmas & a happy year
To every morning passer-by
Milkmaids their Christmas journeys go
Accompanied with favourd swain
& children pace the crumping snow
To taste their grannys cake again

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Upon the fire

The block upon the fire is put
To sanction customs old desires
& many a faggots bands are cut
For the old farmers Christmas fires
Where loud-tongued Gladness joins the throng
& Winter meets the warmth of May
Till feeling soon the heat too strong
He rubs his shins & draws away

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Christmas box

& oft for pence & spicy ale
With winter nosegays pinnd before
The wassail-singer tells her tale
& drawls her Christmas carols oer
While prentice boy with ruddy face
& rime-bepowderd dancing locks
From door to door with happy pace
Runs round to claim his ‘Christmas box’

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A merry throng

The singing waits a merry throng
At early morn with simple skill
Yet imitate the angels song,
& chant their Christmas ditty still
& mid the storm that dies & swells
By fits in hummings softly steals
The music of the village bells
Ringing round their merry peals

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Glad Christmass comes

Glad Christmas comes & every hearth
Makes room to give him welcome now
E'en want will dry its tears in mirth
& crown him with a holly bough
Though tramping 'neath a winter sky
O'er snowy paths & rimy stiles
The housewife sets her spinning by
To bid him welcome with her smiles

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The birch tree there

White thorn wild cherry & the poplar bare

The sycamore all withered in the sun

No leaves are now upon the birch tree there

All now is stript to the cold wintry air

See not one tree but what has lost its leaves

& yet the landscape wears a pleasing hue

The winter chill on his cold bed receives

Foliage which once hung oer the waters blue

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Muse in silence

When summer ceases to be green
& winter bare & blea—
Death may forget what I have been
But I must cease to be

When words refuse before the crowd
My Marys name to give
The muse in silence sings aloud
& there my love will live

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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd

Dithering sit

The boy that scareth from the spiry wheat
The melancholy crow - in hurry weaves
Beneath an ivied tree his sheltering seat
Of rushy flags & sedges tied in sheaves
Or from the field a shock of stubble thieves
There he doth dithering sit & entertain
His eyes with marking the storm-driven leaves
Oft spying nests where he spring eggs had ta'en
& wishing in his heart twas summer-time again

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In sheltered spots

Where slanting banks are always with the sun
The daisy is in blossom even now;
And where warm patches by the hedges run
The cottager when coming home from plough
Brings home a cowslip root in flower to set.
Thus ere the Christmas goes the spring is met
Setting up little tents about the fields
In sheltered spots.--Primroses when they get
Behind the woods old roots where ivy shields

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A merry throng

And singers too a merry throng
At early morn wi simple skill
Yet imitate the angels song
And chant their christmass ditty still
And mid the storm that dies and swells
By fits-in humings softly steals
The music of the village bells
Ringing round their merry peals

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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd

Wreaths of snow

Een winter deemed so desolate a waste

Hath crowds of beautys to the man of taste

& oft he walks about on quiet days

Full many things to notice & to praise

Where oer the snow clad fields the little feet

Of hares are printed that betray their seat

& woods so still he een may hear the sound

Of small wrens footsteps oer the heaving ground

While trees & branches make a splendid show

Of lights & shadows hung in wreaths of snow

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Hidden Treasures

For the "What can we get xxxxxx in your life"... a blatant suggestion... I still have copies of "Hidden Treasures'" (first published Aug 2016) for sale. The fruits of several years labour in the John Clare Archives - most of the poems/prose therin are published for the first time. £7.50 plus P&P.  Drop me a line… Find out for yourself what all the fuss is about!

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The winter chill

No leaves are now upon the birch tree there
All now is stript to the cold wintry air
See not one tree but what has lost its leaves
& yet the landscape wears a pleasing hue
The winter chill on his cold bed receives
Foliage which once hung oer the waters blue
Naked & bare the leafless trees repose
Blue headed titmouse now seeks maggots rare
Sluggish & dull the leaf strewn river flows

 

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Despoiled & bare

Hail scenes of Desolation & despair
Keen Winters over bearing sport & scorn
Torn by his Rage in ruins as you are
To me more pleasing then a summers morn
Your shatter'd scenes appear—despoild & bare
Stript of your clothing naked & forlorn
—Yes Winters havoc wretched as you shine
Dismal to others as your fate may seem
Your fate is pleasing to this heart of mine
Your wildest horrors I the most esteem.—
The ice-bound floods that still with rigour freeze
The snow clothd valley & the naked tree
These sympathising scenes my heart can please
Distress is theirs—& they resemble me

 

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Left alone

The sun shines wan & pale
Chill blows the northern gale
& odd leaves shake & quiver on the tree
While I am left alone
Chilled as a mossy stone
& all the world is frowning over me

 

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Melted mild

The sun lookd out the dreary scene to bless
Old winters grinning horrors forcful smild
His flinty bosom thawd wi tenderness
So fiercfull savages have melted mild
Neath the sweet looks of womans lovliness
So poesy thy witcheries so wild
Doth warm the chilly heart of wants distress
& forcful give a joy to natures child

 

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Friendship of nature

Tis winter & the fields are bare & waste
The air one mass of vapour clouds & storms
The suns broad beams are buried & oercast
& chilly glooms the midday light deforms
Yet comfort now the social bosom warms
Friendship of nature which I hourly prove
Even in this winter scene of frost & storms
Bare fields the frozen lake & leafless grove
Are natures grand religion & true love

 

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Give him welcome now

Christmass is come and every hearth
Makes room to give him welcome now
Een want will dry its tears in mirth
And crown him wi a holly bough
Tho tramping neath a winter sky
Oer snow track paths and ryhmey stiles
The hus wife sets her spining bye
And bids him welcome wi her smiles

 

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Off to Scotland

Will ye gang wi' me to Scotland dear

Where the mountains touch the sky
& leave your humdrum labours here
& climb the hills sae high
Come leave your fowl your pigs a& kye 
& your mud-floor dwelling here
Come put your wheel & knitting bye
We'll be off to Scotland dear

 

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Christmas in the skies

In fancys infant ecstasy

Likening the snow to falling feathers

Climb up the window-seat with glee

& some to view the winter weathers

Laughing with superstitious love

Oer visions wild that youth supplies

Of people pulling geese above

& keeping Christmas in the skies

As tho the homestead trees were drest
In lieu of snow with dancing leaves
As tho the sun-dried martins nest
Instead of ickles hung the eaves
The children hail the happy day—
As if the snow were Aprils grass
& pleasd as neath the warmth of May
Sport oer the water froze to glass

 

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Numbd & clumpsing

The school boys still their morning rambles take
To neighbouring village school with playing speed
Loitering with pastimes leisure till they quake
Oft looking up the wild geese droves to heed

Making glib slides were they like shadows go

& off they start anew & hasty blow
Their numbd & clumpsing fingures till they glow
Then races with their shadows wildly run
That stride hugh jiants oer the shining snow
In the pale splendour of the winter sun

 

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Image by my friend #JohnAbbott

Leafy luxury

The holly bush a sober lump of green
Shines through the leafless shrubs all brown & grey

& smiles at winter, be it e'er so keen
With all the leafy luxury of may
& o it is delicious when the day
In winters loaded garment keenly blows
& turns her back on sudden falling snows

 

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Hid in trees

 

Now almost hid in trees a little gate

 Cheats us into the darkness of the wood 

 We almost think the day is wearing late 

 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 

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I love thee nature

I love thee nature in my inmost heart
Go where I will thy truth seems from above
Go where I will thy landscape forms a part
Of heaven—e'en these fens where wood nor grove
Are seen—their very nakedness I love
For one dwells nigh that secret hopes prefer
Above the race of women—like the dove
I mourn her abscence—fate that would deter
My hate for all things—strengthens love for her

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The old fox

Among the taller wood with ivy hung

The old fox plays & dances round her young

She snuffs & barks if any passes by

& swings her tail and turns prepared to fly

They get all still & lie in safety sure

& out again when everythings secure

& start & snap at blackbirds bouncing by

To fight & catch the great white butterfly

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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd

Zig zag lane

O now the crimson east its fire streak burning

Tempts me to wander neath the blushing morn

Winding the zig zag lane turning & turning

As winds the crooked fences wilderd thorn

O wheres the eye can gaze upon the dawn

That flushes yon blue sky of cloudless heaven

& gilds the prospect round below—what eye

Can look upon the beautys morn has given

& look unmovd, sure neer a soul thats living

The soul must be extinct who passes bye

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Image by my friend #RachelBurch

I love the muse

I love the verse that mild & bland
Breathes of green fields & open sky
I love the muse that in her hand
Bears flowers of native poesy
Who walks nor skips the pasture brook
In scorn but by the drinking horse
Leans o'er its little brig to look
How far the sallows lean across

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Image by my friend #RachelBurch