 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
477
THE SPINDLE TREE
Tis pleasant in our walks to meet with thingsSimple yet new—paths frequent traced diserns
Such the spurge laurel that obscurely springs
Among the underwood & different ferns
That hid themselves in leaves the summer through
Now shining rich & resolutely green
When leaves save weeds are else but scant & few
Yet one gay bush is beautifully seen
As full of berries as its twigs can be
Glittering & pink as blossoms washed in dew
Gleams the gay burthen of the spindle tree
The old mans beard the saplings grains pursues
Like feathers hung with rime—but autumns showers
Makes their rich berries shine like summer flowers
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |