The early poems of John Clare 1804-1822: General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
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[This hill on which I rest me now] |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
[This hill on which I rest me now]
This hill on which I rest me nowShaded by summers blooming bough
Where free the cowslips left to bow
& where the wild thymes printed now
359
Upon this bare existing spot
As some day tho I heed it not
Might stand but castle hall or what
& when & how—why thats forgot
Or wether it was so or not
—The Times gone bye
Where Sleep has dropt my weary head
To take its peace the weary bed
& closing sorrows nigh gone fled
Ive often thought & often said
As slumbering here I lye
Mynstrel of earliest aged days awake
Of thy wild Ignrance fain would I partake
Thy rusted wires thy old uncoothly make
& quaint expressions pleaseth much mine eye
As wandering aimlessly the wires among
Wild on the heaths on which thy harp has rung
Where druid mynstrel sung
In days gone by
| The early poems of John Clare | |