 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
464
SUMMER HAPPINESS
The sun looks down in such a mellow light
I cannot help but ponder in delight
To see the meadows so divinely lye
Beneath the quiet of the evening sky
The flags & rush in lights & shades of green
Look far more rich than I have ever seen
& bunches of white clover bloom again
& plats of lambtoe still in flower remain
In the brown grass that summer scythes have shorn
In every meadow level as a lawn
While peace & quiet in that silent mood
Cheers my lone heart & doth my spirits good
The level grass the sun the mottled sky
Seems waiting round to welcome passers bye
I cannot help but ponder in delight
To see the meadows so divinely lye
Beneath the quiet of the evening sky
The flags & rush in lights & shades of green
Look far more rich than I have ever seen
& bunches of white clover bloom again
& plats of lambtoe still in flower remain
In the brown grass that summer scythes have shorn
In every meadow level as a lawn
While peace & quiet in that silent mood
Cheers my lone heart & doth my spirits good
The level grass the sun the mottled sky
Seems waiting round to welcome passers bye
Summer is prodigal of joy the grass
Swarms with delighted insects as I pass
& crowds of grasshoppers at every stride
Jump out all ways with happiness their guide
& from my brushing feet moths flirt away
In safer places to pursue their play
In crowds they start I marvel well I may
To see such worlds of insects in the way
& more to see each thing however small
Sharing joys bounty that belongs to all
& here I gather by the world forgot
Harvests of comfort from their happy mood
Feeling Gods blessing dwells in every spot
& nothing lives but ows him gratitude
Swarms with delighted insects as I pass
& crowds of grasshoppers at every stride
Jump out all ways with happiness their guide
& from my brushing feet moths flirt away
In safer places to pursue their play
In crowds they start I marvel well I may
To see such worlds of insects in the way
& more to see each thing however small
Sharing joys bounty that belongs to all
& here I gather by the world forgot
Harvests of comfort from their happy mood
Feeling Gods blessing dwells in every spot
& nothing lives but ows him gratitude
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |