 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
475
ON SEEING TWO SWALLOWS LATE IN OCTOBER
Lone occupiers of a naked sky
When desolate november hovers nigh
& all your fellow tribes in many crowds
Have left the village with the autumn clouds
Carless of old affections for the scene
That made them happy when the fields were green
& left them undisturbed to build their nests
In each old chimney like to welcome guests
Forsaking all like untamed winds they roam
& make with summers an unsettled home
Following her favours to the farthest lands
Oer untraced oceans & untrodden sands
Like happy images they haste away
& leave us lonely till another may
When desolate november hovers nigh
& all your fellow tribes in many crowds
Have left the village with the autumn clouds
Carless of old affections for the scene
That made them happy when the fields were green
& left them undisturbed to build their nests
In each old chimney like to welcome guests
Forsaking all like untamed winds they roam
& make with summers an unsettled home
Following her favours to the farthest lands
Oer untraced oceans & untrodden sands
Like happy images they haste away
& leave us lonely till another may
But little lingerers old esteem detains
Ye haply thus to brave the chilly air
When skys grow dull with winters heavy rains
& all the orchard trees are nearly bare
Yet the old chimneys still are peeping there
Above the russet thatch where summers tide
Of sunny joys gave you such social fare
As makes you haply wishing to abide
In your old dwellings through the changing year
I wish ye well to find a dwelling here
For in the unsocial weather ye would fling
Gleanings of comfort through the winter wide
Twitting as wont above the old fireside
& cheat the surly winter into spring
Ye haply thus to brave the chilly air
When skys grow dull with winters heavy rains
& all the orchard trees are nearly bare
Yet the old chimneys still are peeping there
Above the russet thatch where summers tide
Of sunny joys gave you such social fare
As makes you haply wishing to abide
In your old dwellings through the changing year
I wish ye well to find a dwelling here
For in the unsocial weather ye would fling
Gleanings of comfort through the winter wide
Twitting as wont above the old fireside
& cheat the surly winter into spring
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |