To the snipe


Thriving on seams
That tiny islands swell
Just hilling from the mud and rancid streams
Suiting thy nature well
For here thy bill
Suited by wisdom good
Of rude unseemly length doth delve & drill
The jellied mass for food
& here mayhap
When summer suns have drest
The moors rude desolate & spongy lap
May hide thy mystic nest

Daily #JohnClare posts
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An ashen stoven


How sweet to be thus nestling deep in boughs
Upon an ashen stoven pillowing me
Faintly are heard the ploughmen at their ploughs
But near an eye can find its way to see
The sun beams scarce molest me wi a smile
So thick the leafy armies gather round
& where they do the breeze blows cool the while
Their leafy shadows dancing on the ground

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Winter’s rage


Torn by his rage in ruins as you are
To me more pleasing then a summers morn
Your shatterd scenes appear—despoild & bare
Stript of your clothing naked & forlorn
—Yes Winters havoc wretched as you shine
Dismal to others as your fate may seem
Your fate is pleasing to this heart of mine
Your wildest horrors I the most esteem

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Image by my friend #RachelBurch

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The snowdrop


The snowdrops in the orchard grass
As white as clumps of snow
Drooping—tell thee lovely lass
That winters strife must go
With all his snow storms drifting deep
No longer to trepan
The snowdrop wakes the hive bees sleep
& I love Mary Ann

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Bluebells


Bluebells how beautifull & bright they look
Bowed oer green moss & pearled in morning dew
Shedding a shower of pearls as soon as shook
In every wood hedgegap theyre shineing through
Smelling of spring & beautifully blue
Childhood & Spring how beautifully dwells
Their memories in the woods we now walk through
O balmy days of spring in white thorn dells
How beautifull are woods & their bluebells

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Mistress shrew


‘Go wipe your shoes’ says mistress shrew
To Hodge who up for's dinner drew
‘'Tis'n't fitting that such hogs as you
‘Shou'd come into a house’
‘Why not’ says hodge—‘if thats the case
‘I cant come in a better place
‘For surely there is no disgrace
‘For hogs to herd wi' Sows’

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Startled from slumber


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

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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd

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Stand & show


Go vile hypocrisy with subtle tongue  
& smooth spruce visage that can hide a lie  
In fairest speech & meditate a wrong  
Under prayers masking—put that covering bye  
That hid thy speckled snakes thy whole life long  
Here truth reigns absolute—nay pass not bye  
That mask must off—& thy deformity  
In nakedness of deeds must stand & show  
The hypocrite that seemed a saint below 

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Sadder than tears


Flowers shall hang upon the pawls
Brighter than patterns upon shawls
& blossoms shall be in the coffin lids
Sadder than tears on griefs eyelids
Garlands shall hide pale corps faces
When beauty shall rot in charnel places
Spring flowers shall come in dews of sorrow
For the maiden goes down to her grave tomorrow

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Wealthy thieves


But tis well known that justice winks at crimes
A saying thats in season at all times
Or why should the poor sinning starving clown
Meet jail & hanging for a stolen crown
While wealthy thieves with knaverys bribes endued
Plunder their millions & are not pursued
Nay at the foot of Tyburns noted tree
They do deserving deeds & still go free
Where others suffer for some pigmy cause
They all but murder & escape the laws
Skulking awhile in briberys dirty den
Then start new gilt & pass as honest men

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Ribbons gay


& when its past a merry crew
Bedeckt in masks and ribbons gay
The 'Morrice danse' their sports renew
& act their winter evening play
The clown-turnd-kings for penny praise
Storm wi the actors strut and swell
&  harlequin a laugh to raise
Wears his hump back and tinkling bell

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White necks peering


The larks like thunder rise & suther round
Then drop & nestle in the stubble ground
The wild swan hurries high & noises loud
With white necks peering to the evening cloud
The weary rooks to distant woods are gone
With length of tail the magpie winnows on
To neighbouring tree & leaves the distant crow
While small birds nestle in the hedge below

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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd

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Heavy winged kite


While the hazel-bush sheltered my seat from a storm
& there came the linnet with wool in its bill
To build its new nest in the hedge or the thorn
& there I could see the black sails of the mill
& the spire in the gray sleeping light of the morn
& there came the heavy-wingd kite oer the lea
& the old hens they calld for their chickens aloud
& there the black crow came & perchd on the tree
& the lark hid itself in the black bosomd cloud

Daily #JohnClare posts
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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd

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Little selfsown flowers


Ere yet the year is one month old
In spite of frost & wind & snow
Bare-bosomed to the quaking cold
Springs little selfsown flowers will blow
& ever kin to early hours
Peep aconites in cups of gold
With frilled leaves muffled round their flowers
Like tender maidens shunning cold

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Welcome pale primrose


Welcome pale primrose starting up between
Dead matted leaves of oak & ash that strew
The every lawn the wood & spinney through
Mid creeping moss & ivys darker green
How much thy presence beautifies the ground
How sweet thy modest unaffected pride
Glows on the sunny bank & wood's warm side
 
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Tis spring


Tis Spring my love 'tis Spring
& the birds begin to sing
If 'twas Winter left alone with you
Your bonny form & face
Would make a Summer place
& be the finest flower that ever grew.

Tis Spring my love 'tis Spring
& the hazel catkins hing
While the snowdrop has its little blebs of dew
But thats not so white within
As your bosoms  hidden skin--
That sweetest of all flowers that ever grew
 
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Accursed Wealth


Clare’s famous words, expunged from his first published book when his rich supporters realised what they meant.  But, still true today.

Now all laid waste by Desolations hand
Whose cursed weapons level half the land
O 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 remainst 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
 
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Fame


I would not wish the burning blaze
Of fame around a restless world
The thunder & the storm of praise
In crowded tumults heard & hurled.
I would not be a flower to stand
The stare of every passer-bye
But in some nook of fairyland
Seen in the praise of beautys eye 

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Warm gorse blossoms


The sharp wind shivers in the warm gorse blossoms
& trembles in the dead grass oer the heath
The silver rain pearls in the wild flowers bosoms
& moistens minute flowers of moss beneath
There i' the morning dew I early ramble
What time beneath the fern the weary moth
Hides from the sun in dew drops hangs the bramble
As down the rabbit track I venture forth

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Sheltering tree


Though snow-storms clothe the mossy wall
& hourly whiten oer the lea
Yet when from clouds the sun is free
& warms the learning bird to sing
Neath sloping bank & sheltering tree
Tis sweet to watch the creeping spring
Though still so early one may spy
& track her footsteps every hour
The daisy with its golden eye
& primrose bursting into flower

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#poetry #environment
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