 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
MERIT
Hard words to vague pretention seres like death& kills its feeble efforts with a breath
But insults thrown on merits struggling way
Are help-mates to her journey—not decay
As fires lies smouldering till the wind sweeps past
Then bursts to flame & kindles with the blast
So from the throws of envy hate & strife
Genius bursts forth & breaths eternal life
In vain the taunt would blight the scoff would sere
Like cobweb network falls the gibe & sneer
& genius like a sunburst from the cloud
Throws forth her light her mind is heard aloud
The nights of malice into lights decay
& aids her exaltations into day
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |