The early poems of John Clare 1804-1822: General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
I. |
a. |
b. |
[By lonesom Woods & Unfrequented Streams] |
a. |
b. |
a. |
b. |
II. |
a. |
b. |
a. |
b. |
a. |
b. |
a. |
b. |
a. |
b. |
The early poems of John Clare | ||
[By lonesom Woods & Unfrequented Streams]
By lonesom Woods & Unfrequented Streams
How oft I stretch me in the Silent Shade
Hopefully Wishing in some pleasing dreams
To Catch a 'zemblance of the lovley Maid
But ah I lay me on the Ground in vain
Waking or Sleeping—be it as It will
Distressing Scenes disturb my Frantic Brain
& Grief & Anguish my Companions still
Nay even when my Flimsy hope prevails
& I to Clasp her stretch my arms in vain
In that Fond Moment the False Vision fails
& Waking leaves me to severer pain
O Wheres the Man that lives to mourn like me
& in vain Sighs to Waste his lingering Breath
When easy Ways are known to set him free
& make him happy in the arms of Death
These 8 long years have I for Myra sigh'd
So long the Angel which I only prizd
These 8 long years have I endurd her pride
So long a Lover & so long despis'd
But ah deluding hope is always near
To Wisper Joys that serve to Sweeten Life
With better times she fills my greedy ear
& still that Myra lives her Damons Wife
Deluded hopes & more deluded Man
Oh still how canst thou dally with thy pain
When Reason plain detecting every plan
Shows every Wish & every hope is vain
Hear lovley Girl & hearing O be kind
For once let pity that dear bosom melt
Tis no pert fop to Flattery inclind
That Mocks & tells the Pains he never felt
No tis thy Damon in whose choise so free
Myra alone the fairest Angel seems
Of all the World who fancies none but thee
The only Girl his aching heart esteems
Tis him who sighs his love in Myras ear
Tis him who sues for Pity at her feet
Tis him reveals—& O reveals in fear
But still in hopes—a kind return to meet
Say lovley Maid—for thou alone canst tell
May Damon hope—or hopes his heart in vain
May he still Wish that all may yet be Well
Myra prove kind & he releasd from pain
Or is he doomd in Misery to live
& drag this hated Life unto a Close
Unnoticd still & she no promise give
To ease this heart of her oerburdend Woes
Speak lovley Girl to What I here enjoin
Is sorrow ended now or not begun
For still this Weak this foolish heart of mine
Relies on hopes till the last Moments gone
A Hopeful Captive while I'm doomd to be
Still must I live to hug these gauling chains
Which Cupid de[i]gns thy Slave should wear for thee
Till the last Ray of Glimmering hope remains
Yes lovley Girl (tho Weary now of Life)
Still will I linger on with hopes in store
How oft I stretch me in the Silent Shade
Hopefully Wishing in some pleasing dreams
To Catch a 'zemblance of the lovley Maid
But ah I lay me on the Ground in vain
Waking or Sleeping—be it as It will
Distressing Scenes disturb my Frantic Brain
& Grief & Anguish my Companions still
Nay even when my Flimsy hope prevails
& I to Clasp her stretch my arms in vain
In that Fond Moment the False Vision fails
& Waking leaves me to severer pain
O Wheres the Man that lives to mourn like me
& in vain Sighs to Waste his lingering Breath
When easy Ways are known to set him free
& make him happy in the arms of Death
220
So long the Angel which I only prizd
These 8 long years have I endurd her pride
So long a Lover & so long despis'd
But ah deluding hope is always near
To Wisper Joys that serve to Sweeten Life
With better times she fills my greedy ear
& still that Myra lives her Damons Wife
Deluded hopes & more deluded Man
Oh still how canst thou dally with thy pain
When Reason plain detecting every plan
Shows every Wish & every hope is vain
Hear lovley Girl & hearing O be kind
For once let pity that dear bosom melt
Tis no pert fop to Flattery inclind
That Mocks & tells the Pains he never felt
No tis thy Damon in whose choise so free
Myra alone the fairest Angel seems
Of all the World who fancies none but thee
The only Girl his aching heart esteems
Tis him who sighs his love in Myras ear
Tis him who sues for Pity at her feet
Tis him reveals—& O reveals in fear
But still in hopes—a kind return to meet
Say lovley Maid—for thou alone canst tell
May Damon hope—or hopes his heart in vain
May he still Wish that all may yet be Well
Myra prove kind & he releasd from pain
Or is he doomd in Misery to live
& drag this hated Life unto a Close
Unnoticd still & she no promise give
To ease this heart of her oerburdend Woes
Speak lovley Girl to What I here enjoin
Is sorrow ended now or not begun
For still this Weak this foolish heart of mine
Relies on hopes till the last Moments gone
A Hopeful Captive while I'm doomd to be
221
Which Cupid de[i]gns thy Slave should wear for thee
Till the last Ray of Glimmering hope remains
Yes lovley Girl (tho Weary now of Life)
Still will I linger on with hopes in store
Till then sweet Girl (tho weary now of Life)
I'll linger on in hopes as here to fore
But when I Myra find anothers Wife
Then Hopes Adieu—thy Lubin lives no more
I once flushd with hopes catchd from Myra a smile
& venturd to sue for a kiss
O heavens thought I [h]eres an end to my toil
& this the beginning of Bliss
Myra once flushd my hopes with a smile
& I venturd to sue for a kiss
O I deemd it an end of my toil
& the safe promisd era of Bliss
But ah my Congectures were vain
Some trifles were still incompleat
Some doubts still creating a pain
To mingle the bitter & sweet
I prest her dear hand—plain my love might be spelt
With the fondest impatience I burnd
But O who can tell what a coldness I felt
When I found not the token returnd
I'll linger on in hopes as here to fore
But when I Myra find anothers Wife
Then Hopes Adieu—thy Lubin lives no more
I once flushd with hopes catchd from Myra a smile
& venturd to sue for a kiss
O heavens thought I [h]eres an end to my toil
& this the beginning of Bliss
Myra once flushd my hopes with a smile
& I venturd to sue for a kiss
O I deemd it an end of my toil
& the safe promisd era of Bliss
But ah my Congectures were vain
Some trifles were still incompleat
Some doubts still creating a pain
To mingle the bitter & sweet
I prest her dear hand—plain my love might be spelt
With the fondest impatience I burnd
But O who can tell what a coldness I felt
When I found not the token returnd
I thought I Read love in her eyes
But when her soft Bosom I prest
It alarmd me with jealous suprise
To find that her heart was at Rest
Ah alas to my self then I sighd
Now I hopd that my sorrows were done
But the nearer she comes to be tryd
Plainer proves that they'r only begun
Sad tokens too plainly they prove
Tho this silly heart will not see
That she but disembles her love
& has not the least Value for me
Since Prayers & entreaties with Myra is vain
Since her Bosom no pity bestows
Since she mocks with derision my sorows & pain
& makes but a jist of my woes
Grown hardend in croses no more Ill complain
Nor look with a languishing eye
—& this fond heart Ill burst it in spite of its pains
Ere it shall have vent for a Sigh
But when her soft Bosom I prest
It alarmd me with jealous suprise
To find that her heart was at Rest
Ah alas to my self then I sighd
Now I hopd that my sorrows were done
But the nearer she comes to be tryd
Plainer proves that they'r only begun
Sad tokens too plainly they prove
Tho this silly heart will not see
That she but disembles her love
& has not the least Value for me
222
Since her Bosom no pity bestows
Since she mocks with derision my sorows & pain
& makes but a jist of my woes
Grown hardend in croses no more Ill complain
Nor look with a languishing eye
—& this fond heart Ill burst it in spite of its pains
Ere it shall have vent for a Sigh
Ye oaks spreding round me so mournful & Green
What I feel now I traverse this spot
To think that I Wander unknown & Unseen
Neglected despisd & forgot
For theres not an object seems fair to the eye
(Unceasing Remembrance of pain)
But minds me of her & creates a fresh sigh
To think that I love her in vain
O was there a Leaf or a twig or a flower
Nay a blade of low Grass sprung in here
By the hand of false My[ra] presd under this bower
I would worship this blade with a tear
Ah me I will search for a smooth rined tree
& the name of dear Myra engrave
& there (as the best consolation for me)
Bow to the inscription—a slave
O Sensibility now Im alone
What thro thee am I doomd to endure
Fellow Clowns ah theyre happy with hearts of their own
In ignorance Resting secure
What I feel now I traverse this spot
To think that I Wander unknown & Unseen
Neglected despisd & forgot
For theres not an object seems fair to the eye
(Unceasing Remembrance of pain)
But minds me of her & creates a fresh sigh
To think that I love her in vain
O was there a Leaf or a twig or a flower
Nay a blade of low Grass sprung in here
By the hand of false My[ra] presd under this bower
I would worship this blade with a tear
Ah me I will search for a smooth rined tree
& the name of dear Myra engrave
& there (as the best consolation for me)
Bow to the inscription—a slave
O Sensibility now Im alone
What thro thee am I doomd to endure
Fellow Clowns ah theyre happy with hearts of their own
In ignorance Resting secure
The early poems of John Clare | ||