 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
315
BALLAD
[The spring returns the pewet screams]
The spring returns the pewet screams
Loud welcomes to the dawning
Though harsh & ill as now it seems
Twas music last may morning
The grass so green—the daisy gay
Wakes no joy in my bosom
Although the garland last mayday
Wore not a finer blossom
Loud welcomes to the dawning
Though harsh & ill as now it seems
Twas music last may morning
The grass so green—the daisy gay
Wakes no joy in my bosom
Although the garland last mayday
Wore not a finer blossom
For by this bridge my Mary sat
& praised the screaming plover
As first to hail the day—when I
Confessed myself her lover
& at that moment stooping down
I pluckt a daisy blossom
Which smilingly she called her own
May garland for her bosom
& praised the screaming plover
As first to hail the day—when I
Confessed myself her lover
& at that moment stooping down
I pluckt a daisy blossom
Which smilingly she called her own
May garland for her bosom
& in her breast she hid it there
As true loves happy omen
Gold had not claimed a safer care
I thought loves name was woman
I claimed a kiss she laughed away
I sweetly sold the blossom
I thought myself a king that day
My throne was beautys bosom
As true loves happy omen
Gold had not claimed a safer care
I thought loves name was woman
I claimed a kiss she laughed away
I sweetly sold the blossom
I thought myself a king that day
My throne was beautys bosom
& little thought an evil hour
Was bringing clouds around me
& least of all that little flower
Would turn a thorn to wound me—
She showed me after many days
Though withered—how she prized it
& then she leaned to wealthy praise
& my poor love despised it
Was bringing clouds around me
& least of all that little flower
Would turn a thorn to wound me—
She showed me after many days
Though withered—how she prized it
& then she leaned to wealthy praise
& my poor love despised it
Aloud the whirring pewet screams
The daisy blooms as gaily
But where is Mary—absence seems
To ask that question daily
No where on earth where joy can be
To glad me with her pleasure
Another name she owns—to me
She is as stolen treasure
The daisy blooms as gaily
But where is Mary—absence seems
To ask that question daily
No where on earth where joy can be
To glad me with her pleasure
316
She is as stolen treasure
When lovers part—the longest mile
Leaves hope of some returning
Though mines close bye—no hope the while
Within my heart is burning
One hour would bring me to her door
Yet sad & lonely hearted
If seas between us both should roar
We were not further parted
Leaves hope of some returning
Though mines close bye—no hope the while
Within my heart is burning
One hour would bring me to her door
Yet sad & lonely hearted
If seas between us both should roar
We were not further parted
Though I could reach her with my hand
Ere suns the earth goes under
Her heart from mine—the sea & land
Are not more far asunder
The wind & clouds now here now there
Hold not such strange dominion
As womans cold perverted will
& soon estranged opinion
Ere suns the earth goes under
Her heart from mine—the sea & land
Are not more far asunder
The wind & clouds now here now there
Hold not such strange dominion
As womans cold perverted will
& soon estranged opinion
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |