The early poems of John Clare 1804-1822: General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
437
IMPROMTU ON WINTER
O Winter what a deadly foeArt thou unto the mean & low
What thousands now half-pind & bare
Are forcd to stand thy piercing air
All day neer numb'd to death wi' cold
Some petty Gentry to uphold
Paltry proudlings hard as thee
Dead to all humanity—
O the weathers cold & snow
Cutting winds that round me blow
But much more the killing scorn
—O the day that I was born
Friendless,—poor as I can be
Struck wi' death o' poverty
But why need I the winter blame
To me all seasons come the same
Now winter bares each field & tree
She finds that trouble sav'd in me
Stript already—pennyless!
Nothing boasting but distress
& when spring chill'd nature cheers
Still my old complaint she hears
Summer too in plenty blest
Finds me poor & still distrest
Kind Autumn too so liberal & so free
Brings my old well known present—‘Poverty’
| The early poems of John Clare | |