 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
417
THE FAIREY RINGS
Here in the greensward & the old molehills
Where ploughshares never come to hurt the things
Antiquity hath charge of—fear instills
Her footsteps—& the ancient fairey rings
Shine black & fresh & round—the gipseys fire
Left yesternight scarce leaves more proof behind
Of midnight sports when they from day retire
As in these rings my fancy seems to find
Of fairey revels—& I stoop to see
Their little footmarks in each circling stain
& think I hear them in their summer glee
Wishing for night that they may dance again
Till shepherds tales told neath the leaning tree
While shunning showers seem bible truths to me
Where ploughshares never come to hurt the things
Antiquity hath charge of—fear instills
Her footsteps—& the ancient fairey rings
Shine black & fresh & round—the gipseys fire
Left yesternight scarce leaves more proof behind
Of midnight sports when they from day retire
As in these rings my fancy seems to find
Of fairey revels—& I stoop to see
Their little footmarks in each circling stain
& think I hear them in their summer glee
Wishing for night that they may dance again
Till shepherds tales told neath the leaning tree
While shunning showers seem bible truths to me
Aye almost scripture truths my poorer mind
Grows into worship of these mysterys
While fancys doth her ancient scrolls unbind
That time hath hid in countless centurys
& when the mornings mist doth leave behind
The fuzball round & mushroom white as snow
They strike me—in romantic moods enshrined
As shadows of things modeled long ago
Halls palaces & marble columned domes
& modern shades of faireys ancient homes
Erected in these rings & pastures still
For midnight balls & revelry—& then
Left like the ruins of all ancient skill
To wake the wonder of more common men
Grows into worship of these mysterys
While fancys doth her ancient scrolls unbind
That time hath hid in countless centurys
& when the mornings mist doth leave behind
The fuzball round & mushroom white as snow
They strike me—in romantic moods enshrined
As shadows of things modeled long ago
Halls palaces & marble columned domes
& modern shades of faireys ancient homes
Erected in these rings & pastures still
For midnight balls & revelry—& then
Left like the ruins of all ancient skill
To wake the wonder of more common men
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |