 | The Poems of John Clare |  |
WOODCROFT CASTLE (I)
Woodcroft, thy castle many a story yields—How drunken rebels, scorning flood and fen,
Turned up their horses in thy blooming fields
And killed bold Hutchinson and all his men;
They show the dangerous height from which he fell—
The narrow moat the naked wall surrounds;
The staring towers in naked quiet dwell,
And sheep and oxen fill the lonely grounds.
The sailing puddock makes a lonesome cry,
And strangers tell the tale while passing by:
How rebels entered, and the master fell,
And morts of riches buried in the well!
The labourer wonders where the riches lay,
Digs on, and thinks of money all the day.
| The Poems of John Clare | |