The early poems of John Clare 1804-1822: General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
 | I. |
|
TO MRS ANNA ADCOCK AUTHOR OF ‘COTTAGE POEMS’ |
|
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
| II. |
|
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
TO MRS ANNA ADCOCK AUTHOR OF ‘COTTAGE POEMS’
Sweet rural Songstres of the Rustic grove
How dear to me thy sympithizing strain
Thy faults I trifles deem thy lays I love
Nor shall those trifles strive to please in vain
How dear to me thy sympithizing strain
Thy faults I trifles deem thy lays I love
Nor shall those trifles strive to please in vain
35
But O! Enthusiastic natures child
When ere I roam thro lone Eves moistning dew
Thy ‘Poems’ charm me in the dreary wild
While added lustre brings their scenes to view
When ere I roam thro lone Eves moistning dew
Thy ‘Poems’ charm me in the dreary wild
While added lustre brings their scenes to view
There when I see the ‘Wild briers straggling rose’
Thy wildness brings me to Simplicity
For lo the sting which slighted Friendship knows
Throbs thro my bosom as it did with thee
Thy wildness brings me to Simplicity
For lo the sting which slighted Friendship knows
Throbs thro my bosom as it did with thee
And know sweet Songstres:—(tho I cant impart
High learned lays to court what Witts bestow)
I store within this breast a feeling heart
That melts with pity oer anothers woe
High learned lays to court what Witts bestow)
I store within this breast a feeling heart
That melts with pity oer anothers woe
Thy fate I mourn alas! but thats in vain
Tho its no more than every Poets doom
And this to ease they seek the Muses train
On Parnas hill where joys for ever bloom
Tho its no more than every Poets doom
And this to ease they seek the Muses train
On Parnas hill where joys for ever bloom
There Thompson sought for charms to ease his grief
And there those charms by Thompsons lyre was gaind
There poor lost Goldsmith crav'd and got relief
Which he by Labour otherwise maintain'd
And there those charms by Thompsons lyre was gaind
There poor lost Goldsmith crav'd and got relief
Which he by Labour otherwise maintain'd
Then keep thy Epithet ‘Meek natures Child’
From her gay stores another Garland weave
Resing the beauties of each blooming wild
And like thy kindred ever cease to grieve
From her gay stores another Garland weave
Resing the beauties of each blooming wild
And like thy kindred ever cease to grieve
| The early poems of John Clare | |