 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
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WOMAN
They may boast as they will over pleasures repast
Tracing bliss to false sources in idle employ
Yet still they acknowledge that woman at last
Is the fount from whence flows the worlds essence of joy
They may boast about flowers of the summers perfume
But when alls said & done can a blossom compare
To the cheeks of a lovely young maiden in bloom
O where is the rose found so luscious as there
Tracing bliss to false sources in idle employ
Yet still they acknowledge that woman at last
Is the fount from whence flows the worlds essence of joy
They may boast about flowers of the summers perfume
But when alls said & done can a blossom compare
To the cheeks of a lovely young maiden in bloom
O where is the rose found so luscious as there
They may talk about pleasure in lifes solitude
But when alls said & done & its silence is tried
They will soon wish again in the world to intrude
Where the heart aching charms of a woman abide
They may sing about wine & applaud in their glee
The glass that a moment of trouble beguiles
But folly reflecting soon wishes to be
In the sunlight of joy where a sweet woman smiles
But when alls said & done & its silence is tried
They will soon wish again in the world to intrude
Where the heart aching charms of a woman abide
They may sing about wine & applaud in their glee
The glass that a moment of trouble beguiles
But folly reflecting soon wishes to be
In the sunlight of joy where a sweet woman smiles
Every pleasure on earth let them laud to the skies
While under gay bacchus's idle controul
They shall all find in reason that woman supplies
The relish & savour that sweeten the whole
Beauty dwells in the fragrance & colour of flowers
Beauty sparkles in wine & the pomp of the hall
But love in a desert will challange his powers
—There the beauty of woman surpasses them all
While under gay bacchus's idle controul
They shall all find in reason that woman supplies
The relish & savour that sweeten the whole
Beauty dwells in the fragrance & colour of flowers
Beauty sparkles in wine & the pomp of the hall
But love in a desert will challange his powers
—There the beauty of woman surpasses them all
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |