 | The Poems of John Clare |  |
THE GROUNDLARK
Close where the milking maidens pass,
In roots and twitches drest
Within a little bunch of grass
A groundlark made her nest.
In roots and twitches drest
Within a little bunch of grass
A groundlark made her nest.
The maiden touched her with her gown
And often frit her out,
And looked and set her bucket down
But never found it out.
And often frit her out,
And looked and set her bucket down
But never found it out.
The eggs were large and spotted round
And dark as is the fallow ground;
The schoolboy kicked the grass in play
But danger never guessed;
And when they came to mow the hay
They found an empty nest.
And dark as is the fallow ground;
The schoolboy kicked the grass in play
But danger never guessed;
And when they came to mow the hay
They found an empty nest.
| The Poems of John Clare | |