John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion :: :: University of Virginia Library

Like a thing of the desert alone in its glee
I make a small home seem an empire to me
Like a bird in the forest whose home is its nest
My home is my all & the centre of rest
Let ambition stride over the world at a stride
Let the restless go rolling away with the tide
I look on lifes pleasures as follys at best
& like sunset feel calm when Im going to rest

I sit by the fire in the dark winters night
While the cat cleans her face with her foot in delight
& the winds all acold with rude clatter & din
Shake the windows like robbers who want to come in
Or else from the cold to be hid & away
Where the fire it burns bright & my childerns at play
Making houses of cards or a coach of a chair
While I sit enjoying their happiness there

I walk round the orchard on sweet summer eves
& rub the perfume from the black currant leaves
Which like the geranium when touched leaves a smell
That ladslove & sweet briar can hardly excell
& watch the things grow all begemed with the shower
That glitter like pearls in a sunshiny hour
& hear the pert robin just startle a tune
To cheer the lone hedger when labour is done

Joys come like the grass in the field springing there
Without the mere toil of attention or care
They come of them selves like a star in the sky
& the brighter they shine when the cloud passes bye
I wish but for little & find it all there
Where peace gives its faith to the home of the hare
Who otherwise would in her fears run away
From the shade of the flower & the breeze of the day

O the out of door blessings of leisure for me
Health riches & joy—O it owns them all three
There peace comes to me I have faith in her smile
Shes my playmate in leisure my comfort in toil
There the short pasture grass hides the lark on its nest

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Though scarcely so high as the grasshoppers breast
& there its moss ball hides the wild honey bee
& there joy in plenty grows riches for me

Far away from the world its delusions & snares
Where words are but breath & its breathings but cares
Where troubles sown thick as the dews of the morn
Can scarce set a foot without meeting a thorn
There are some views the world as a light cuckaball
There are some looks on citys like stones in a wall
Nothing bigger—but these are ambition his heirs
For which I have neither the courage or cares

So I sit on my bench or enjoy in the shade
My toil as a pleasure while using the spade
While fancy is free in her pleasure to stray
Making voyages round the whole world in a day
To gather home comforts where cares never grew
Like manna the heavens rain down with the dew
Till I see the tired hedger bend wearily bye
Then like a tired bird to my corner I flye