Colours of Autumn

Now that the year is drawing to a close 

Such mellow tints on trees & bushes lie 
So like to sunshine that it brighter glows 
As one looks more intently—on the sky 
I turn astonished that no sun is there 
The ribboned strips of orange blue & red 
Streaks through the western sky a georgeous bed 
Painting days end most beautifully fair 
So mild so quiet breaths the balmy air 
Scenting the perfume of decaying leaves 
Such fragrance & such lovliness they wear 
Trees hedgrows bushes that the heart recieves 
Joys for which language owneth words too few 
To paint that glowing richness which I view

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd 

My last shilling

O dismal disaster O troublesome lot
What a heart rending theme for my musing Ive got 
Then pray whats the matter O friend I'm not willing 
The thought grieves me sore 
Now Im drove to the shore 
& must I then spend the last shilling the shilling 
& must I then spend the last shilling 

O painful reflection thou whole of my store 
That for these three months in my breeches Ive wore 
To spend thee to spend thee that thought turns me chilling 
O must I in spight 
Of all reason this night 
A Farwell bid to my last shilling my shilling 
A Farwell bid to my last shilling

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

The matted shades

Oh I do love to force a way
Through woods where lone the woodman goes
Through all the matted shades to stray
The brambles tearing at my clothes
& it may tear I love the noise
& hug the solitary joys

The woodman he from top to toe

In leathern doublet brushes on

He cares not where his rambles go

Thorns briers he beats them every one

Their utmost spite his armour foils

Unhurt he dares his daily toils

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Silent birds

Why are ye silent Birds
Where do ye fly
Winters not violent
With such a Spring sky
The wheatlands are green snow & frost are away
Birds why are ye silent on such a sweet day?

By the slated pig-stye
The redbreast scarce whispers
Where last Autumns leaves lie
The hedge sparrow just lispers
& why are the chaffinch & bullfinch so still
While the sulphur primroses bedeck the wood hill?

The bright yellow-hammers
Are strutting about
All still & none stammers
A single note out
From the hedge starts the blackbird at brook side to drink
I thought hed have whistled but he only said "prink”

The tree-creeper hustles
Up firs rusty bark
All silent he bustles
We neednt say hark
Theres no song in the forest in field or in wood
Yet the sun gilds the grass as though come in for good

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Those distant hills

What is there in those distant hills 

My fancy longs to see
That many a mood of joy instils
Say what can fancy be? 

Do old oaks thicken all the woods
With weeds & brakes as here
Does common water make the floods
That's common everywhere? 

Is grass the green that clothes the ground
Are springs the common springs
Daisies & cowslips dropping round
Are such the flowers she brings? 

Their brooms are they [the] yellow broom
Their briers the smelling brier? 
Questions from fancy seldom come 
But such are everywhere

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

In safe assurance

This scene how beautious to the musing mind 
That now swift slides from my enchanted view 

The sun sweet setting yon far hills behind 
In other worlds his visits to renew 
What spangling glories all around him shine 
What nameless colours cloudless & serene 
Rich heavenly colours brightest in decline 
Atend his exit from this lovley scene 
So sets the Christians sun in glories clear 
So shines his soul at his departure here 
No clouding doubts nor misty fears arise 
To dim hopes golden rays of being forgiven 
His sun sweet setting in the clearest skies 
In safe assurance wings the soul to heaven

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Two short years

  

  O once I loved a pretty girl, and dearly love her still;

  I courted her in happiness for two short years or more.

  And when I think of Mary it turns my bosom chill,

  For my little of life's happiness is faded and is o'er.

  O fair was Mary Littlechild, and happy as the bee,

  And sweet was bonny Mary as the song of forest bird;

  And the smile upon her red lips was very dear to me,

  And her tale of love the sweetest that my ear has ever heard

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

All to brown

I love to seek the brakes & fern

& rabbits up and down 
& then the pleasant autumn comes
& turns them all to brown

To common eyes they only seem 
A desert waste & drear

To taste & love they always shine
A garden through the year

Lord keep my love for quiet joys
O keep me to thy will
I know thy works & always find 
Thy mercies kinder still

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

The Tramp

He eats (a moments stoppage to his song) 
The stolen turnip as he goes along
& hops along & heeds with careless eye 
The passing crowded stage coach reeling bye
He talks to none but wends his silent way
& finds a hovel at the close of day
Or under any hedge his house is made
He has no calling & he owns no trade
An old smoaked blanket arches oer his head
A whisp of straw or stubble makes his bed
He knows a lawless law that claims no kin 
But meet & plunder on & feel no sin— 
No matter where they go or where they dwell 
They dally with the winds & laugh at hell

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Self interest

Self interest saw thee stand in freedoms ways
So thy old shadow must a tyrant be
Thoust heard the knave abusing those in power
Bawl freedom loud & then opress the free
Thoust sheltered hypocrites in many a shower
That when in power would never shelter thee
Thoust heard the knave supply his canting powers
With wrongs illusions when he wanted friends
That bawled for shelter when he lived in showers
& when clouds vanished made thy shade amends
With axe at root he felled thee to the ground
& barked of freedom—O I hate the sound

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

At the kitchen fire

Love has no out door charms for winter weather 
Twas spring & summer when we met together 
Yet when a chance fell out—at her desire 
I waited on her at the kitchen fire 
& often made her evening labour light 
& took the hugh pot off the hooks at night 
Were soon as ere she thought the job was oer 
Shed make excuse to meet me at the door 
In whispering ways shed oer my shoulder lean 
While I took kisses from my toil unseen 
Whenever she sat up to bake or brew 
I slove to help her when no body knew

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Eternity

Man, Earth's poor shadow! talks of Earth's decay:
But hath it nothing of eternal kin?
No majesty that shall not pass away?
No soul of greatness springing up within?
Thought marks without hoar shadows of sublime,
Pictures of power, which if not doomed to win
Eternity, stand laughing at old Time
For ages: in the grand ancestral line
Of things eternal, mounting to divine,
I read Magnificence where ages pay
Worship like conquered foes to the Apennine,
Because they could not conquer. here sits Day
Too high for Night to come at--mountains shine,
Outpeering Time, too lofty for decay.

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

The beginning ‘o Love

Remember thee love yes how can I forget thee

Since the very first hour that my happiness met thee

Remember thee love what the sword cannot sever
Is mine & mine only for ever & ever
Remember thee love yes I will love remember
From April to May & from June to December
The past & the present & hereafter to come
I'll remember them all for thy heart is my home
I'll think of thee love i' thy happiest smile
Till the sunbeams o' day leave the Night to our Isle
Till the end o' the world thou my darling shall prove
And the finish o' times the begining o' Love

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Woodcutters night song

Welcome red & roundy sun
  Dropping lowly in the west
Now my hard days work is done
  Im as happy as the best

Joyful are the thoughts of home
  Now Im ready for my chair
So till morrow mornings come
  Bill & mittens lie ye there

Though to leave your pretty song
  Little birds it gives me pain
Yet to morrow is not long 
  Then Im with you all again

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Come maiden sad

Come maiden sad of sorrows & of sighs 
Pale melancholy with the downcast look
Come when the dewy eve the landscape dyes
The church yard yew well pass & gurgling brook

& see the snow white moth on stilly breeze
Dance by the spinney hedge & through the leaves

While the dull visions trouble & deceives 
Thy soul with troubles all thine own
The stilly eve thy secret woe receives
Maiden thourt like the church yards mossy stone
Thou readest thy troubles to the world unknown
Thy kind face soothes all sorrow save thine own

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Image from #JoGrundy

Granduers grove

Wild delights of natures shade
Sings its songs of Infancy 
Could my humble songs perswade 
Neer an ax should injure thee 
Many a line should thee recall 
As its green head stoopd the ground 
O to see my favrites fall 
My soul shudders at the sound 
Granduers groves my eye disdains 
Uniformd to art & skill 
Natures freedom suits my strains 
Where thy branches spread

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Image from my friend #JohnAbbott

Desolations hand

As fair & sweet they bloomd thy plains among
As blooms those Edens by the poets sung
Now all laid waste by desolations hand
Whose cursed weapons levels half the land
Oh who could see my dear green willows fall
What feeling heart but dropt a tear for all
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

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Neglect

The cottage is neglected
Where young men used to go 
& talk about her beauty 
& see her come and go
The bench agen her cottage 
Where she used to work at eve 
Is vanished with the woodbine
& all are taken leave
Her cottage is neglected
Her garden gathers green
The summer comes unnoticed
Her flowers are never seen

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

The boys playground

Here lies the germ & happiness of life 
The foot-beat playground of the village boys
Echo is weary of the rapturous strife
& almost fades neath the excessive noise
Some race at leap-frog oer each others back
Some chase their shadows in the evening sun
Some play at hare & hounds a noisy pack
Or ‘Duck duck under water’ shout & run
Others at hopscotch try their cautious skill
Or nine-peg morris cut on grassy hill
Astraddle upon clapping gates some swee
Or tie the branches down of willow tree
A passing-bell scarce makes a deeper sigh
Than the remembrances of days gone by

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Garden boys

As stubborn as the oak that cannot bend

He seeks no master & he has no friend

& round the ground & bawling often goes

& makes a merry feast of roasted sloes

Bawling together all the live long day

A loud & drawling song had all [astray]      

& all is joyous music save that noise

That comes in summered oaths from garden boys

Who run & shout yet cannot drive away

The restless sheep from trespass in the hay

Nor make the crops the shallow fold again

So there the stubborn trespassers remain

Altho the water is so shallow       

That larger pebbles          even lye

Half out of water & their surface dry

Two complete verses and a few odd lines, yet this has been ignored as a ‘fragment’.  

I think it’s rather beautiful.

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

The thorns

Tho' fine prov'd the morning O sad prov'd the ramble

     Adown by the Willows adown by the lee
Adown by the cottage where Hedge rows of bramble
     Hides it from all strangers but unlucky me

For there I espied & admir'd a young rosie
      lov'd & had hopes in possesing the flower
Till Cupid flew laughing away with the posie
     & left me the thorns which I feel at this hour

O Willows & brambles—what deamon beset me
     To make me to go where your cottage arose
Yet still was you all I could hope to forget ye
     But o there's no hopes in forgetting the rose

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

The ancient stone

The traveller journeying on the road alone

Sees by the highway side an ancient stone
& finds it pleasant in the weary day
To sit him down & wear an hour away
The strongest hand of mischief meddld more
& failed to move or break or turn it oer
The man of feeling knew it when a boy
The only thing that nothing could destroy
& just the same as then it now appears
The fragment maybe of some hundred years
Beside the stone the wild flower gathers high
No grazing horse can bite or trample nigh
& smaller birds contented & alone
Can sit & shelter by the ancient stone

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

In the wood

The ground lark sung about the farms
The blackbird in the wood
When fast locked in each others arms
By hedgerow thorn we stood
It was a pleasant Sabbath day
The sun shone bright & round
His light through dark oaks passed & lay
Like gold upon the ground

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Dreary November

Hail dreary November
Full well I remember
Thy wild roaring tempest when I was a child

My heart ne'er was weary
My face was aye cheery
The loud roaring lynn & the mountains so wild

The wild raving thunder
The woods rolling under
The lake rolling billows like waves of the sea

Tis the music of nature
In her stormiest feature
But the sweetest of music is freedom for me

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Ripe as harvest

The autumn morn looks mellow as the fruit
& ripe as harvest — every field & farm
Is full of health & toil — yet never mute
With rustic mirth & peace the day is warm
The village maid with gleans upon her arm
Brown as the hazel nut from field to field
Goes cheerily — the valleys native charm —
I seek for charms that autumn best can yield
In mellowing wood & time bleaching field

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Wild & drear

Lo autumns come wheres now the woodlands green
The charming landscape & the flowrey plain
All all are fled & left this motly scene 
Of fading yellow tinghd with russet stain 
Tho these seem desolatley wild & drear 
Yet these are spring to what we still shall find 
Yon trees must all in nakednes appear 
Reft of their folige by the blustry wind 
Just so twill fare with me in autumns life 
Just so Id wish but may the trunk & all 
Die with the leaves nor taste that wintry strife 
Where sorrows urge but still impede the fall

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

A warmer day

On southward slant of bank or hill 
& berrys freed from rhyme awhile 
Shines red on hedgrow twigs again 
One may a midday hour beguile 
To walk in shielding wood & plain 
To track some woodlands gentle ride 
Where hanging branches lend a screen 
Or banks slopd down on either side 
Were sheltering vallys creep between 
As down such hollows one proceeds 
We instant feel a warmer day 
While mong each bank tops rustling weeds 
Winds noise their unfelt rage away

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Birds hop

Birds hop about each hedge & by the stack 
The small wren twits with tail cocked oer his back, 
Building his nest right early neath the shed 
Where cows in winter found a pleasant bed
Flowers thicken everywhere the very tops 
Of walls are thronged with springs delicious crops 
Of tiny snow white blossoms thickly spread

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Image from my friend #JohnBryant

A boundless love

I love thee Nature with a boundless love
The calm of earth the storm of roaring woods
The winds breathe happiness where'er I rove
Theres lifes own music in the swelling floods
My heart is in the thunder-melting clouds
The snow-cap't mountain & the rolling sea
& hear ye not the voice where darkness shrouds
The heavens There lives happiness for me

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Left alone

Left in the world alone
Where nothing seems my own
& everything is weariness to me

'Tis a life without an end
'Tis a world without a friend
& everything is sorrowful I see

Theres the crow upon the stack
& other birds all black
While Novembers frowning wearily

& the black-clouds dropping rain
'Till the floods hide half the plain
& everything is weariness to me

The sun shines wan & pale
Chill blows the northern gale
& odd leaves shake & shiver on the tree

While I am left alone
Chilled as a mossy stone
& all the world is frowning over me

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

The slumbering weather

If only Clare wrote the weather report each day.  All the lines from ‘November’.

The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon
& if the sun looks through 'tis with a face 
Beamless & pale & round as if the moon
When done the journey of her nightly race
Had found him sleeping & supplied his place

For days the shepherds in the fields may be
Nor mark a patch of sky — blindfold they trace 
The plains that seem without a bush or tree
Whistling aloud by guess to flocks they cannot see

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Painted wings

In wonders admiration often led 
To mark confusions nature round us spread 
Inscects on constant travel as they past 
Shows each new comer different to the last 
& butterflyes whose varied painted wings 
Boasts every hue that summers glory brings 
Like the gilt eyes in peacocks feathers some 
Some hued like flowers to which their wanderings come 
In namless colours others sport the plains 
Hued as misterious as their birth remains

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

Image from my friend #CarryAkroyd