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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[Spirit of the woods awake] |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
[Spirit of the woods awake]
Spirit of the woods awake
In thy wildest dress appear
Trace with me the curdled brake
Sound thy wildness in my ear
Genius of the woods that dwells
Sweeping boughs & grains among
As I climb thy rough rude dells
Breath thy roughness in my song
In thy wildest dress appear
Trace with me the curdled brake
Sound thy wildness in my ear
Genius of the woods that dwells
Sweeping boughs & grains among
As I climb thy rough rude dells
Breath thy roughness in my song
While I brush the branches by
& this woods still ways forsake
Woodland spirit meet my eye
Genius of the woods awake
Breath thy wildness in my ear
[OMITTED] I do belong
Genius of the woods appear
Sound thy roughness in my song
& this woods still ways forsake
Woodland spirit meet my eye
Genius of the woods awake
360
[OMITTED] I do belong
Genius of the woods appear
Sound thy roughness in my song
Who the woods delights can tell
For her many mixing greens
Old snub Oak & sleepy dell
All her wild romantic scenes
Who the woods delights can feel
[OMITTED] follys rude
In its [peacful] rest we steal
On the [OMITTED] of Solitude
For her many mixing greens
Old snub Oak & sleepy dell
All her wild romantic scenes
Who the woods delights can feel
[OMITTED] follys rude
In its [peacful] rest we steal
On the [OMITTED] of Solitude
When the oakes huge branches spread
Waving in the breezes blow
& the hazels tassled head
Lights its humble leaves below
On a mos[s]y bed reclind
Then my reed to tune Id try
Mix my wild notes with the wind
Spirit of the Woods be nigh
Waving in the breezes blow
& the hazels tassled head
Lights its humble leaves below
On a mos[s]y bed reclind
Then my reed to tune Id try
Mix my wild notes with the wind
Spirit of the Woods be nigh
Wild delights of natures [shade]
Sings its songs of Infancy
Could my humble songs perswade
Neer an ax should injure thee
Many a line should thee recall
As its green head stoopd the ground
O to see my favrites fall
My soul shudders at the sound
Sings its songs of Infancy
Could my humble songs perswade
Neer an ax should injure thee
Many a line should thee recall
As its green head stoopd the ground
O to see my favrites fall
My soul shudders at the sound
Granduers groves my eye disdains
Uniformd to art & skill
Natures freedom suits my strains
Where thy branches spread
O how I delight to be
Wandering in the wild wild wood
Pausing on Grey mossy tree
Oaks that have for ages stood
Uniformd to art & skill
Natures freedom suits my strains
Where thy branches spread
361
Wandering in the wild wild wood
Pausing on Grey mossy tree
Oaks that have for ages stood
| The early poems of John Clare | |