 | The Poems of John Clare |  |
353
THE OUTCAST
He goes about the fields from day to day
And gathers wool to bother want away;
But want as usual follows at his heels,
He cannot labour and he never steals.
But meddlers haunt and watch him by the way
And hope to catch him with some stolen prey;
While pilfered hedges broke and open lie
They never see him bear the faggot by.
He often passes by but never takes
The rotten hedges that another breaks,
While the rude ruffian stands upon a lie
And throws his scorn at every passer-by.
The weak and harmless often bear the blame
But look in slander's face and feel no shame.
And gathers wool to bother want away;
But want as usual follows at his heels,
He cannot labour and he never steals.
But meddlers haunt and watch him by the way
And hope to catch him with some stolen prey;
While pilfered hedges broke and open lie
They never see him bear the faggot by.
He often passes by but never takes
The rotten hedges that another breaks,
While the rude ruffian stands upon a lie
And throws his scorn at every passer-by.
The weak and harmless often bear the blame
But look in slander's face and feel no shame.
He lives among the persecuted poor,
And laughter jeers and passes by his door.
He rarely meets a face without a frown,
The poorest mortal laughs and runs him down;
He never makes reply but holds his tongue
And only mutters as he goes along.
Yet when he wanders where the stranger strays,
He often meets with kindness by the way,
And labour often holds his bottle up
And bids him drink and take a hearty sup;
And wearing on for many a weary hour,
He dithers, oft o'ertaken in the shower.
The hedger looks and throws the noggin by
And bids him take it home his clothes to dry.
And laughter jeers and passes by his door.
He rarely meets a face without a frown,
The poorest mortal laughs and runs him down;
He never makes reply but holds his tongue
And only mutters as he goes along.
Yet when he wanders where the stranger strays,
He often meets with kindness by the way,
And labour often holds his bottle up
And bids him drink and take a hearty sup;
And wearing on for many a weary hour,
He dithers, oft o'ertaken in the shower.
The hedger looks and throws the noggin by
And bids him take it home his clothes to dry.
| The Poems of John Clare | |