Thy spirit visits

An incomplete rhyming scheme perhaps, but what fun!

Personally I think Clare’s pencil simply ran away with him, 

and sometimes he never went back to ‘correct’.

Thy spirit visits me like dew 
That glistens on the flowers 
Falling in the morning blue 
     & in the evening hours 

The wild flowers have a feeling 
Oer my calm senses stealing 

& loves soft dreams revealing 
     Seem wispering from the bowers

The foxgloves freckled bells 
That blossom by the wood 
& in the forrest dells 
     In the midst of solitude 

There I hear my lover call 
Where the whitethorn forms a wall 
& the foxglove blossoms tall 
     In the tears of eve bedewed 

Spirit thou of every place 
Where loves memories are left 
Places green as years of grace 
     Where hope lives of love bereft 

My love lives in these green places 
Where woodbine the white thorn embraces 
Far from the crowd of worldly faces 
     Here loves spirit still is left

Daily #JohnClare posts

#poetry #environment