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The later poems of John Clare

1837-1864 ... General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger
Clare, John (1793-1864)

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Volume I
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Volume II
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KNIGHT TRANSCRIPTS VOLUME TWO
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THE LAST SIX POEMS
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POEMS FROM BAKER'S GLOSSARY
  
[Where the deer with their shadows passed swifter than thought]
  
[How beautiful May and its morning comes in!]
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[O for one real imaginary blessing]

O for one real imaginary blessing
Ideal real blessing blasted through
With sin & yet how rich is the caressing
Of love as mothers kisses sweet as Hermon dew
A bright grey eye or black it knocks mine through
& leaves them dim as stars fall'n from above
Electric shocks they come from God knows who
Milk maids have eyes the picture of the doves
That thrill through bones & marrow is it Love
It is the very essence of all pleasure
It is earths diamond & the oceans gem
It is of life & soul the dearest treasure
Woman through life is mans own diadem
To love God truly may we worship them
224

Of life in love how various is the scenes
Of infant cherubs Loves the parent stem
I wooed a gipsey wench on sunday e'ens
& worshiped beggar girls & courted queens
Love is the fire that burns the heart to cinders
Love is the thought that makes the poets sigh
Sweet as Queens portraits stuck in London windows
For loyal subjects in their love to buy
Love is of every heart the painted toy
The idol of man[s] worship—faces fair
Where my enchanted magic from a boy
The pouting lip the colour of the hair
Left me in raptures next of kin to care
I loved & wooed them in the field like gems
Of two much value for the clown who sung
The azure bluebells in their sapphire stems
Among green bushes low their mute bells hung
These seemed love's modest maidens dew bestrung
With blebs o' mornings glittering pearls
I loved them in the vallys where I sung
With their green drapery & crispy curls
I loved them as a crowd of blooming girls
With bonny bosom white as is the May
Sweet milkmaid o' may mornings—queen Victoria
The wild brere blushes wi' the break o' day
Sweet as the cowslip fields that spread before thee
Sweet are the dusky clouds that sprinkle oer thee
Filling the cowslip pips wi pearls untold
Thy crown & scepter fade from natures glory
Like toys for tyrants or like garments old
Be nature's Queen & keep her crown of gold
225

The wild hedge rose it is a bonny flower
As ever met the sunshine & the sky
Its gold threads beeded with the summer showers
That patter on the glossy leaves & lye
Like pearls that glitter neath the maidens eye
Who stands admiring by the burning flowers
That from her own looks takes a deeper dye
Like feathers on the hedges at morns hours
They look to fancies happier then ours
I could not walk the fields like common men
& have no fancys nourish—nor could I
Pass the wild rose bush oer the foxes den
& not admire its grandeur silently
Natures own majesty who could pass bye
Things left all beauty like those simple scenes
The wild rose blushing neath a summer sky
The summer morning & the rosey e'en
With all the woodland multitudes of green
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