Toiling

 

I feel it necessary to temper the romantic notions we have of life in the outdoors in the early 19th century as an agricultural labourer:

Toiling in the naked fields
Where no bush a shelter yield
Needy Labour dithering stands
Beats & blows his numbing hands
& upon the crumping snows
Stamps in vain to warm his toes
Leaves are fled that once had power
To resist a summer shower
& the wind so piercing blows
Winnowing small the drifting snows

Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings

Comments welcome below
#poetry #environment 

#honesty