 | The Poems of John Clare |  |
240
THE WOODLARK (II)
Yet chance will sometimes prove a faithless guest,Leading some wanderer by her haunts to roam;
And startled by the rustle, from her nest
She flutters out and so betrays her home;
Yet it is seldom accident can meet
241
I've often wondered, when agen my feet
She fluttered up and fanned the anemone
That blossomed round in crowds, how birds could be
So wise to find such hidden homes again;
And this in sooth oft puzzled me—they go
Far off and then return; but nature's plain—
She giveth what sufficeth them to know
That they of comfort can their share retain.
| The Poems of John Clare | |