The later poems of John Clare 1837-1864 ... General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
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 | The later poems of John Clare |  |
[Tis autumn now & harvests reign]
Tis autumn now & harvests reign
Brown swelling hills & hollow vales
The sudden shower sweeps oer the plain
& health breaths in the shivering gales
The coveys rise—the sportsman joys
& in the stubbles bleeding fall
The hunters face glows in the chase
He loves to hear the bugle call
That loud through wood & dingle rings
As oer the fence the courser springs
Brown swelling hills & hollow vales
The sudden shower sweeps oer the plain
& health breaths in the shivering gales
The coveys rise—the sportsman joys
& in the stubbles bleeding fall
The hunters face glows in the chase
He loves to hear the bugle call
That loud through wood & dingle rings
As oer the fence the courser springs
The songs of home in every field
From merry harvesters is heard
The hare as yet from harm will shield
Where barley waves its tawney beard
Some sing & blink oer kegs of drink
& love the drunkards brawls to own—
I love to dream by valleys stream
& live with quiet peace alone
The brook & wood the vale & tree
Are the green homes of joy to me
From merry harvesters is heard
The hare as yet from harm will shield
Where barley waves its tawney beard
Some sing & blink oer kegs of drink
13
I love to dream by valleys stream
& live with quiet peace alone
The brook & wood the vale & tree
Are the green homes of joy to me
Some love to drink adieu to care
I love the solitude of rest
Some meet with woman false & fair
& think it joy to be distrest
The hazle nook the mossy brook
I love from feelings of the boy
The broad topt oak the ravens croak
& all of nature brings me joy
There solitude of sun & shade
A paradise on earth hath made
I love the solitude of rest
Some meet with woman false & fair
& think it joy to be distrest
The hazle nook the mossy brook
I love from feelings of the boy
The broad topt oak the ravens croak
& all of nature brings me joy
There solitude of sun & shade
A paradise on earth hath made
& yet the love of woman still
Hath been my sunshine all along
Her voice along the upland hill
Was music in my early song
Her love confest is still the best
To comfort every care & thrall
In poesys page her heritage
Reigns still the empress over all
Theres not a land where life hath been
But looks on woman as its queen
Hath been my sunshine all along
Her voice along the upland hill
Was music in my early song
Her love confest is still the best
To comfort every care & thrall
In poesys page her heritage
Reigns still the empress over all
Theres not a land where life hath been
But looks on woman as its queen
| The later poems of John Clare | |