 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
SHADOWS
The fairest summer hath its sudden showersThe clearest sky is never without clouds
& in the painted meadows host of flowers
Some lurking weed in poisonous death enshrouds
Sweet days that upon golden sunshine springs
A gloomy night in mourning waits to stain
The honey bees are girt with sharpest stings
& sweetest joys oft breed severest pains
While like to autumns storms sudden & brief
Mirths parted lips oft close in silent grief
Amid this checkered lifes dissasterous state
Where hope lives green amid the desolate
As nature in her happy livery waves
Oer ancient ruins pallaces & graves
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |