 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
A WALK
Being refreshed with thoughts of wandering moods
I took my staff & wandered far away
Through swampy fenland void of heaths & woods
To see if summers luxury could display
In such drear places aught of beautiful
& sooth it gives me much delight to say
That painters would feel exquisite to cull
Rich bits of landscape I have seen to day
Down by the meadow side our journey lay
Along a sloping bank profusely spread
With yarrow ragwort flea bane all in flower
As showy almost as a garden bed
But thistles like unbidden guests would come
& throw a dreary prospect in the way
I took my staff & wandered far away
Through swampy fenland void of heaths & woods
To see if summers luxury could display
In such drear places aught of beautiful
& sooth it gives me much delight to say
That painters would feel exquisite to cull
Rich bits of landscape I have seen to day
Down by the meadow side our journey lay
Along a sloping bank profusely spread
With yarrow ragwort flea bane all in flower
As showy almost as a garden bed
But thistles like unbidden guests would come
& throw a dreary prospect in the way
462
Then oer some arches intersecting walls
We clambered & pursued the dreary fen
Upon whose dreary edge old Waldron hall
Stood like a lone place far removed from men
Hid under willows tall as forrest trees
Yet there we met with places rich to please
Green closen osier clumps & black topt reeds
In little forrests shooting crowds on crowds
So thickly set no opening scarce alowed
The bird a passage in their shade to breed
& now a fishers hut—I could but look
In lone seclusion in my journey lay
Placed on a knoll of that wild reedy nook
As if some Crusoe had been cast away
We clambered & pursued the dreary fen
Upon whose dreary edge old Waldron hall
Stood like a lone place far removed from men
Hid under willows tall as forrest trees
Yet there we met with places rich to please
Green closen osier clumps & black topt reeds
In little forrests shooting crowds on crowds
So thickly set no opening scarce alowed
The bird a passage in their shade to breed
& now a fishers hut—I could but look
In lone seclusion in my journey lay
Placed on a knoll of that wild reedy nook
As if some Crusoe had been cast away
In that rude desolate flat when winter floods
Rave seas of danger round its little bay
So thought I in supprises startled moods
To meet that little picture in my way
Then swept the brown bank in a rounding way
& flag clumps vivid green & little woods
Of osiers made the wilderness be gay
& some green closen so intensly green
I could have wasted half a summers day
To gaze upon their beauty so serene
As if calm peace had made its dwelling there
For in such places she hath often been
An unhoused dweller in the open air
An hermit giving blessings to the scene
Rave seas of danger round its little bay
So thought I in supprises startled moods
To meet that little picture in my way
Then swept the brown bank in a rounding way
& flag clumps vivid green & little woods
Of osiers made the wilderness be gay
& some green closen so intensly green
I could have wasted half a summers day
To gaze upon their beauty so serene
As if calm peace had made its dwelling there
For in such places she hath often been
An unhoused dweller in the open air
An hermit giving blessings to the scene
463
Now came the river sweeping round the nooks
By thirsty summers pilgrimage subdued
Dark & yet clear the glassy water looks
As slow & easy in majestic mood
It sweeps along by osier crowded glen
Untill it winds an almost naked flood
Along the flats of the unwooded fen
Yet even there prolific summer dwells
& garnishes its sides in vivid green
Of flags & reeds the otters pathless den
—Now lanes without a guide post plainly tells
Their homward paths—while from a stile is seen
The open church tower & its little bells
& chimneys low where peaceful quiet dwells
By thirsty summers pilgrimage subdued
Dark & yet clear the glassy water looks
As slow & easy in majestic mood
It sweeps along by osier crowded glen
Untill it winds an almost naked flood
Along the flats of the unwooded fen
Yet even there prolific summer dwells
& garnishes its sides in vivid green
Of flags & reeds the otters pathless den
—Now lanes without a guide post plainly tells
Their homward paths—while from a stile is seen
The open church tower & its little bells
& chimneys low where peaceful quiet dwells
My journey feels refreshed with green delight
Though woods nor heaths nor molehill pastures led
A pleasant varied way—yet richly spread
Corn crowded grounds in awthorn hedges dight
That shelter gave to many a little bird
Where yellowhammers “peeped” in saddened plight
At peeping cowboy that its pleasure marred
Who carried in his hat its stubbly nest
& sung in rapture oer his stolen prize
The eggs in his rude mind where strangely guest
As written on by some strange phantasys
Strange prodigys that happy summer brings
To minds as happy & my journey tells
My mind that joy in poor seclusion dwells
Though woods nor heaths nor molehill pastures led
A pleasant varied way—yet richly spread
Corn crowded grounds in awthorn hedges dight
That shelter gave to many a little bird
Where yellowhammers “peeped” in saddened plight
At peeping cowboy that its pleasure marred
Who carried in his hat its stubbly nest
& sung in rapture oer his stolen prize
The eggs in his rude mind where strangely guest
As written on by some strange phantasys
Strange prodigys that happy summer brings
To minds as happy & my journey tells
My mind that joy in poor seclusion dwells
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |