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

One morn I wandered forth neath spirits high
Those moods that mornings peering breath instills
& like my shade my mind in ecstasy
Stretched like a jiant oer the pasture hills
I mused on reasoning mans exalted sway
Oer the brute world—pride made my feelings brave
Creations lord to me he seemed that day
I felt as if all nature was his slave
But times glass soon did mock my visioned might
I saw & shrunk an insect at the sight

For as I wandered by a quarrys side
Where an old hoary weatherbeaten swain
Was delving sand—in lifes rude troubles tried
An humble pittance natures boon to gain
He stopt his toil & with a feeble hand
Pointed to where a human skull lay bare
& mingled with the refuse of the land
Fallen from life & pride to moulder there
I looked upon the relic with deep awe
While silence seemed to question what I saw

What wert thou upon earth perhaps a king
For such the relics of earths best renown
Thou pompous shadow thou proud trifling thing
Bare is the brow that triumphed neath a crown
By rank forsaken stript of prides attire
Deaths sad reality fate only claims
All else like shadows bidden to expire
Time keeps the wreck to mock at earthly fames
To show vain glory in its golden birth
Of what poor value it is held by death

Wert thou a tyrant that disdained though clay
The laws of God & man & with vain power
For earths vain glories threw the heavens away
How art thou fallen at this lonely hour
Thy vengance that did like the thunder sear
Ordaining hosts of murders at a breath
Hath vanished & the slave forgot his fear
Beneath the banner of that tyrant death
Even the little ant now undismayed

Creeps oer thy skull & feeleth not afraid

A warrior thou who sped in victorys ways
As overbearing as a mighty wind
Ah little thought thy pride that victorys praise
So soon would leave her heroes fame behind
From war & all its havoc long deterred
Thy courage withering in its mad career
Bowed before death tame as a broken sword
& ah how silent doth it harbour here
Its fame all sunk to nothingness away
As showers by night was[h] out the steps of day

Wert thou a lover ah what else so warm
As lovers thoughts that lead the heart to bliss
How sad the change in deaths oertaken storm
Cold wrecked & stranded in a place like this
Love that will nestle neath the eagles wing
& find a dwelling in the lions den
Hath long forsaken thee thou lonely thing
Of mystery & knows thee not agen
Warm hopes gay thoughts rapt joys & fond desires
Have lost their home death put out all their fires

Wert thou a poet who in fancys dream
Saw immortality throw by her veil
& all thy labours in fames temple gleam
In the proud glory of an aftertale
If so how cheated thy ambition died
How vain the hopes the muses visions gave
Death with eternity scarce took one stride
Ere thou wert left forgotten in the grave
Chilled all thy powers with thoughts oerflowing full
& nought left extant but this empty skull

Wert thou of poor descent & like to me
A toiling worm to earn lifes daily bread
If so death made thee rich as well as free
& left thee equal with the noblest dead
Emperors & kings no more by flattery fed
Poor as thou art their condescension spares
Even to thee a portion of their bed
& thines as soft a pillow now as theirs
& who could grudge the mightys guest to be

Where kings grow kind & share their pomp with thee

In vain I question nought will answer me
Of what thou wert yet know I that thou art
A faithful portrait of what life shall be
Thus much thy mystic vision doth impart
King Tyrant Warrior Lover Bard & all
Shall into nothing every name resign
& fames proud scroll at last shall be the pall
To hide them as oblivion hideth thine
While virtues deeds shall longest live & be
A wreath to girdle vast eternity