The early poems of John Clare 1804-1822: General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
I. |
THE PISMIRE |
a. |
b. |
a. |
b. |
a. |
b. |
II. |
a. |
b. |
a. |
b. |
a. |
b. |
a. |
b. |
a. |
b. |
The early poems of John Clare | ||
THE PISMIRE
Thou little insect infinitely smallWhat curious texture marks thy minute frame
How seeming large thy foresight and withall
Thy labouring tallents not unworthy fame
To raise such monstrous hills along the plain
Largher than mountains when compar'd with thee
To drag the crumb dropt by the village swain
Thrice bigger than thy self—is strange indeed to me
But that great instinct which foretells the cold
And bids 'em gard 'gainst winters wasteful power
Endues this mite with cheerfulnes to hold
Her toiling labours thro the sultry hour
So that same soothing power of Misery
Cheers the poor Pilghrim to Eternity!
The early poems of John Clare | ||