 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
317
THE OLD MANS SONG
Youth has no fear of ill by no cloudy days anoyed
But the old mans all hath fled & his hopes have met their doom
The bud hath burst to bloom & the flower been long destroyed
The root too is withered & no more can look for bloom
So I have said my say & I have had my day
& sorrow like a young storm creeps dark upon my brow
Hopes like to summer winds they have all blown away
& the worlds sunny side is turned over with me now
& left me like a lame bird upon a withered bough
But the old mans all hath fled & his hopes have met their doom
The bud hath burst to bloom & the flower been long destroyed
The root too is withered & no more can look for bloom
So I have said my say & I have had my day
& sorrow like a young storm creeps dark upon my brow
Hopes like to summer winds they have all blown away
& the worlds sunny side is turned over with me now
& left me like a lame bird upon a withered bough
I look upon the past tis as black as winter days
But the worst it is not over there is blacker days to come
O would I had but know[n] of the wide worlds many ways
But futurity is blind so I een must share my doom
Joy once reflected brightly of prospects overcast
But now like a looking glass thats turned to the wall
Life is nothing but a blank & the sunny shining past
Is overspread with glooms that doth every hope enthrall
While troubles daily thicken in the wind ere they fall
But the worst it is not over there is blacker days to come
O would I had but know[n] of the wide worlds many ways
But futurity is blind so I een must share my doom
Joy once reflected brightly of prospects overcast
But now like a looking glass thats turned to the wall
Life is nothing but a blank & the sunny shining past
Is overspread with glooms that doth every hope enthrall
While troubles daily thicken in the wind ere they fall
Life smiled upon me once as the sun upon the rose
My heart so free & open guessed every face a friend
Though the sweetest flower must fade & the sweetest season close
Yet I never gave it thought that my happiness would end
Till the warmest seeming friends grew the coldest at the close
As the sun from lonely night hides its haughty shining face
Yet I could not think them gone for they turned not open foes
While memory fondly mused former favours to retrace
& I turned but only found that my shadow kept its place
My heart so free & open guessed every face a friend
Though the sweetest flower must fade & the sweetest season close
Yet I never gave it thought that my happiness would end
Till the warmest seeming friends grew the coldest at the close
As the sun from lonely night hides its haughty shining face
Yet I could not think them gone for they turned not open foes
While memory fondly mused former favours to retrace
& I turned but only found that my shadow kept its place
& this is nought but common life what every body finds
As well as I or mores the luck of those that better speed
I'll mete my lot to bear with the lot of kindred minds
& grudge not those who say they for sorrow have no need
Why should I when I know that it will not aid a nay
For summer is the season even then the little flye
Finds friends enew indeed both for leisure & for play
But on the winter window why they crawl alone to die
Such is life & such am I a wounded & a winter stricken flie
As well as I or mores the luck of those that better speed
I'll mete my lot to bear with the lot of kindred minds
& grudge not those who say they for sorrow have no need
Why should I when I know that it will not aid a nay
For summer is the season even then the little flye
Finds friends enew indeed both for leisure & for play
But on the winter window why they crawl alone to die
Such is life & such am I a wounded & a winter stricken flie
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |