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. |
[O riches from thy cruel scorning] |
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
| II. |
|
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
261
[O riches from thy cruel scorning]
O riches from thy cruel scorningWhat divided hearts endure
Is worth enrichd by your adorning
Is worth the worse for being poor
Thou shade of merit los of thee
Is cause of all my pain
Fair Emas kind—but friends can see
No Worth were you disdain
Thus sighd poor Edwin—Hopes long vanishd
All alone to sorow left
His love discoverd he was banishd
Of Ema & his love bereft
Once lovly angel he resumd
Her smiles my hopes did warm
Then I had friends but now I'm doomd
To seek em in the storm
O was that tender Angel near me
My sorrows could but Ema see
Her heart O if her heart could hear me
If still unchang'd would pity me
Thus hoples Edwin sighd his pains
But short was his despair
For heaven that hears when worth complains
Directs his Ema there
Concious of his pains & grieving
Pearly tears bedewd her charms
& concious woes her bosom heaving
Sighd & sunk into his arms
O heaven Enrapturd Edwin c[r]ied
My angel keep from [h]arm
Love friends & all—My foes denyd
I've found eme in the storm
| The early poems of John Clare | |