 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
307
BALLAD
[I dreamt not what it was to woo]
I dreamt not what it was to woo
& felt my heart secure
Till Robin dropt a word or two
Last evening on the moor
Though with no flattering words the while
His suit he urged to move
Fond ways informed me with a smile
How sweet it was to love
& felt my heart secure
Till Robin dropt a word or two
Last evening on the moor
Though with no flattering words the while
His suit he urged to move
Fond ways informed me with a smile
How sweet it was to love
He left the path to let me pass
The dropping dews to shun
& walked himself among the grass
I deemed it kindly done
& when his hand was held to me
As oer each stile we went
I deemed it rude to say him nay
& manners to consent
The dropping dews to shun
& walked himself among the grass
I deemed it kindly done
& when his hand was held to me
As oer each stile we went
I deemed it rude to say him nay
& manners to consent
He saw me to the town & then
He sighed but kissed me not
& whispered ‘we shall meet agen’
But did'n't say for what
Yet on my breast his cheek had lain
& though it gently press'd
It bruised my heart & left a pain
That robs it of its rest
He sighed but kissed me not
& whispered ‘we shall meet agen’
But did'n't say for what
Yet on my breast his cheek had lain
& though it gently press'd
It bruised my heart & left a pain
That robs it of its rest
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |