Still the grazing kine


So did its sunshine warm my brow
& sure it gleams as lovely now
Tis full as still the grazing kine
Make but sweet music in their noise
The sweetest flowers it owns are mine
Free gifts & so are all its joys 
The trees their friendly arms extend
& bid me welcome to their shade
The old molehills their welcomes lend
As if for rest on purpose made


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The little path winds on & on


While sauntering noiseless oer the leafy ground
The air we breathe seems void of every trace
Of earth & all its trouble & the mind
Yearns for a dwelling in so sweet a place
From troubles noise such stillness seemeth by

Yet still the little path winds on & on
Down hedgerow sides & many a pastoral charm
We soon forget the charm of poesy gone
In the still woodland with its silent balm

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The summer’s voice is still


The autumn's come again

& the clouds descend in rain

& the leaves they are falling from the wood

The summer's voice is still

Save the clacking of the mill

& the lowly muttered thunder of the flood


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By September


How delightfuly pleasant when the cool chilling air

By september is thrown oer the globe

When each morning both hedges and bushes do wear

Instead of their green—a grey robe.

To see the sun rise thro the skirts of the wood

In his mantle so lovley and red

It cheers up my spirits and does me much good

As thro the cold stubbles I tred

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The white-thorn tree


Who loves the white-thorn tree,
And the river running free?
There a maiden stood with me
In  Summer weather.
Near a cottage far from town,
While the sun went brightly down
Oer the meadows green and brown,
We loved together.

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On thy gentle stream


Upon thy winding side wild gwash I lie 
Viewing with curious eye the silver bream 
Taking vaunting springs to trap the thoughtless flye 
That heedless dances on thy gentle stream 
The black snail wakens from the swoons of day 
& from the boughs that nestle by thy side 
The light wing'd moths steal out again to play 
Crossing with hasty wing thy rippling tide

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The nearest way


The passing hours jogd on apace 
& in their progress seemd to say 
‘Haste & gain that destind place 
 Or soon thoult loose the flitting day’ 
 I instantly obeyd their call 
 Nor went to where the foot pad lay 
 But clamberd oer an old rough wall 
 & stole across the nearest way 

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Mist simmers thin


The heavy thick mist hangs over the sun
The grass is all wet wi the dew
I cannot come out to thee Roger till noon
Fear o' spoiling my sealskin shoe
No mists need to tarry my Jenny till noon
The mist simmers thin on the hill
Sun beams getting yellow will master him soon
& ye may walk out if ye will

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The mingling dye


The clouds of purple & of crimson dye
Were huddled up together in a heap
And oer the scented wide worlds edge did lie
Resting as quiet as if lulled to sleep
I gazed upon them with a wishing eye
& longed but vainly for the painters power
To give existence to the mingling dye
& snatch a beauty from an evening hour

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Web is spun


How fine the spider's web is spun
Unnoticed to vulgar eyes
Its silk thread glittering in the sun
Arts bungling vanity defies
Roaming where the dewey field
Neath its morning burthen leans
While its crops my searches shield
Sweet I scent the blossomd beans

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The low of the cow


The Blackbird Has Built In The Pasture Agen
& The Thorn Oer The Pond Shows A Delicate Green
Where I Strolled With Patty Adown In The Glen
& Spent Summer Evenings & Sundays Unseen
How Sweet The Hill Brow
& The Low Of The Cow
& The Sunshine That Gilded The Bushes So Green

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 Photo by my friend #JohnAbbott

The dewey cheek of morning


The red east glows the dewey cheek of morning 
 Has not yet me[t] the suns oerpowering smile 
The dew drop in its beauty still is dawning 
The wet bush we past soon as touchd it woud drop 
& the grass neath our feet was as wet as a mop 

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Photo by my friend #JohnAbbott

Faded colours mournd


The fading Autumn all resighnd
As consious of her dying state
Th’influence of the Sun declind
& hopeless yielded to her fate
The Trees their faded colours mournd
& shepherds with a tearfull eye
Reviewd their changes as they turnd
& thought of winter with a sigh

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The meadow brook


The gipsey down the meadow brook 
 Wi long pole & a reaping hook 
Tyd at its end amid the streams 
That glitters wi the hot sunbeams 
Reaches and cuts the bulrush down 
& hawks them round each neighboring town

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Meek innoscence


Fair emblemn of meek innoscence 
Sweet modest flower with thee 
My Chloes matchles excellence 
Exactly does agree 
& o how charming is her face 
Just like the snowdrop flower 
It gives to every downcast grace 
In love—A double power

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Early photo (1860) by #LadyClementineHarwardine

A scarlet host display


In every place where feathered warblers sing 
Wild flowers in armies come — so beautiful is Spring
The garish Summer comes with many tribes 
Of gay & gaudy flowers in bright array
But the hot sun the cloudy morning bribes
& dries all moisture with his scorching ray
Corn-poppies oft a scarlet host display

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Natures sweetest pledge


The blackbird startles from the homestead hedge,

Raindrops and leaves fall yellow as he springs;

Such images are natures sweetest pledge,

To me there's music in his rustling wings.

‘Prink, prink,’ he cries, and loud the robin sings;

The small hawk like a shot drops from the sky

Close to my feet for mice and creeping things.


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Image by #CarryAkroyd 

Misty morning


Sweet come the misty morning in September
Among the dewy paths 'tis sweet to stray
Greensward or stubbles as I well remember
I have done & the mist it curleth grey

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Love lies bleeding


True love lies bleeding every hour 
Still 'tis heavens eternal flower 
Blooming by the lovers bower 
Eternal love 
Sun's may lower and storms may rise 
Heaven and earth may loose their skies 
Yet naught shall dim in those bright eyes 
That truely love

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Another wonderful photo from #LadyClementiaHarwarden in 1860

Timid hares


One gloomy eve I roamd about
Neath oxeys hazel bowers
While timid hares were daring out
To crop the dewy flowers
& soothing was the scene to me
Right placid was my soul
My breast was calm as summers sea
When waves forget to roll

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Image by #CarryAkroyd

Accursed wealth


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 

Written by  #JohnClare in 1820, what has changed in 200 years?
Book still available from me £4.00 + P&P.

Glitter like pearls


I walk round the orchard on sweet summer eves
& rub the perfume from the black currant leaves
Which like the geranium when touched leaves a smell
That lads love & sweet briar can hardly excell
& watch the things grow all begemed with the shower
That glitter like pearls in a sunshiny hour


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Sauntering noiseless


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
The air we breath seems loosing every trace 

Of earth & all its trouble & the mind


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Loosely flowing


Her hair bound in tortoise or else loosley flowing


(Lo each is a beautiful show)


More blacker than jet the fine ringlets seem glowing


Nay they rival the Micaelmas sloe.



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An early photo (1860) by #ClementinaLadyHawarden of one of her daughters

 

Waking fond desire


Now melancholy autumn comes anew
With showery clouds and fields of wheat tanned brown
Along the meadow banks I peace pursue
And see the wild flowers gleaming up and down
Like sun and light; the ragwort's golden crown
Mirrors like sunshine when sunbeams retire
And silver yarrow: there's the little town
And o'er the meadows gleams that slender spire
Reminding me of one, and waking fond desire

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Artist print by #CarryAkroyd

Like lilies on the lake


Thy face is sweet, thy cares are young
Thy voice is womans lovely tongue
Thy smiles are such as all delight
Thy thoughts are lilys clothed in light
Thy swan like neck, thy swelling breast
Like lilies on the lake at rest
Thou art of all the fairest flower
That blooms amid this earthly bower

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The changing face of heaven



Tis lovley now to turn ones eye  

The changing face of heaven to mind 
 How thin spun clouds glide swiftly bye 
 Wi lurking storms slow movd behind 
 Now suns are clear now clouds prevade 
 Each moment changd & changd again
& first a light & then a shade 
 Swift glooms & brightens oer the plain

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The rosy day


The rosy day was sweet and young,

The clod-brown lark that hail'd the morn
Had just her summer anthem sung,
And trembling dropped in the corn;
The dew-rais'd flower was perk and proud,
The butterfly around it play'd;
The sky's blue clear, save woolly cloud
That pass'd the sun without a shade.

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Twittering swallows


By twittering swallows we percieve

That summers on the point to leave
Who skim the pond & rippling spring
Were once they dipt each sooty wing
& greensward lanes from morn till night
Were once they weeld their circling flight

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So is the life of man


Both milkmaids shouts and herdsmans call
Have vanish'd with the green
The kingcups yellow shades and all
Shall never more be seen

As are the changes of the green
So is the life of man


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Artist Print by my friend #CarryAkroyd