 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
89
THOUGHTS IN A CHURCHYARD
Ah happy spot how still it seems
Where crowds of buried memorys sleep
How quiet nature oer them dreams
Tis but our troubled thoughts that weep
Lifes book shuts here its page is lost
With them & all its busy claims
The poor are from its memory crost
The rich have nothing but their names
Where crowds of buried memorys sleep
How quiet nature oer them dreams
Tis but our troubled thoughts that weep
Lifes book shuts here its page is lost
With them & all its busy claims
The poor are from its memory crost
The rich have nothing but their names
There rest the weary from their toil
There lye the troubled free from care
Who through the strife of lifes turmoil
Sought rest & only found it there
With none to fear his scornful brow
There sleep the master & the slave
& heedless of all titles now
Repose the honoured & the brave
There lye the troubled free from care
Who through the strife of lifes turmoil
Sought rest & only found it there
With none to fear his scornful brow
There sleep the master & the slave
& heedless of all titles now
Repose the honoured & the brave
There rest the miser & the heir
Both careless who their wealth shall reap
Een love found cures for heartaches there
& none enjoys a sounder sleep
The fair one far from follys freaks
As quiet as her neighbour seems
Unconsious now of rosey cheeks
& neer a rival in her dreams
Both careless who their wealth shall reap
Een love found cures for heartaches there
& none enjoys a sounder sleep
The fair one far from follys freaks
As quiet as her neighbour seems
Unconsious now of rosey cheeks
& neer a rival in her dreams
Strangers alike to joy & strife
Heedless of all its past affairs
Theyre blotted from the list of life
And absent from its teasing cares
Grief joy hope fear & all their crew
That haunt the memorys living mind
Ceased where they could no more pursue
& left a painless blank behind
Heedless of all its past affairs
Theyre blotted from the list of life
And absent from its teasing cares
Grief joy hope fear & all their crew
That haunt the memorys living mind
Ceased where they could no more pursue
& left a painless blank behind
Lifes ignis fatus light is gone
No more to lead their hopes astray
Cares poisoned cup is drained & done
& all its follys far away
The bills made out the reckoning paid
The book is crossed the business done
On them the last demand is made
& deaths long happy sleep is won
No more to lead their hopes astray
Cares poisoned cup is drained & done
& all its follys far away
The bills made out the reckoning paid
The book is crossed the business done
90
& deaths long happy sleep is won
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |