 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
405
A LIVING PICTURE
Her hair was swarthy brown & soft of hueAs the sweet gloom that falls with evens dew
That on her fine white forhead did divide
In the triumphant negligence of pride
Her eyes were dark but they wore lights to shine
That love adores & poets call divine
& her cheeks summer blooms wore hues the while
Of loves soft innosence without its guile
& on the pouting of her amorous lip
Where love delicious nectar longed to sip
Beauty sat throned in that bewitching spell
That love adores & language cannot tell
Where charms triumphant made each gazer pay
Heartaches for looking—ere he turned away
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |