 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
453
HAPPY THOUGHTS
As pleasant as unlooked for summer showers
Where woods & fields lay gaping day by day
As a sweet reccompence of sunny hours
When oppressed sky imprisoned lay
In one thick cloud for days—in these sweet moods
I feel within me bidding once again
My spirits stir at liberty & play
With happy thoughts that ramble far away
Along the waggon rifted lanes & woods
That give bold outline to the level plain
Where old embowering oaks lift overhead
An arch of bowering grains—& then to lye
On the brown heath where sheep are scantly fed
& view the smiles of an unbounded sky
Where woods & fields lay gaping day by day
As a sweet reccompence of sunny hours
When oppressed sky imprisoned lay
In one thick cloud for days—in these sweet moods
I feel within me bidding once again
My spirits stir at liberty & play
With happy thoughts that ramble far away
Along the waggon rifted lanes & woods
That give bold outline to the level plain
Where old embowering oaks lift overhead
An arch of bowering grains—& then to lye
On the brown heath where sheep are scantly fed
& view the smiles of an unbounded sky
Aye theres a wholsome feeling out of doors
That nourishes the heart with happy themes
The very cattle on the flaggy moors
To the minds eye a pleasant picture seems
& occupations of home husbandry
Some with the plough some singing by the side
Of the slow waggon—& when these I see
They give such blameless pictures void of strife
Such sweet employments neath a smiling sky
I even feel that better lot of life
That in such spots calm providence is bye
& sweet domestic peace whose quiet eye
Feels most delight in its own humble home
& checks the restless mood that often longs to roam
That nourishes the heart with happy themes
The very cattle on the flaggy moors
To the minds eye a pleasant picture seems
& occupations of home husbandry
Some with the plough some singing by the side
Of the slow waggon—& when these I see
They give such blameless pictures void of strife
Such sweet employments neath a smiling sky
I even feel that better lot of life
That in such spots calm providence is bye
& sweet domestic peace whose quiet eye
Feels most delight in its own humble home
& checks the restless mood that often longs to roam
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |