The woods how gloomy in a winters morn
The crows & ravens even cease to croak
The little birds sit chittering on the thorn
The pies scarce chatter when they leave the oak
Startled from slumber by the woodmans stroke
The milk maids song is drownd in gloomy care
& while the village chimneys curl their smoke
She milks & blows & hastens to be there
& nature all seems sad & dying in despair
The little birds sit chittering on the thorn
The pies scarce chatter when they leave the oak
Startled from slumber by the woodmans stroke
The milk maids song is drownd in gloomy care
& while the village chimneys curl their smoke
She milks & blows & hastens to be there
& nature all seems sad & dying in despair
Daily #JohnClare posts
#poetry #environment
Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd
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