The early poems of John Clare 1804-1822: General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
ENGLAND
‘England with all thy faults I love the[e] still
‘My country & while yet a nook is left
‘Where english minds & manners may be found
‘Shall be constrained to love thee’
Cowper
‘My country & while yet a nook is left
‘Where english minds & manners may be found
‘Shall be constrained to love thee’
Cowper
England my country mong evils enthralling
Where is the name that is dearer then thine
Where is the heart so detests in thy falling
Or woud beat wi more sorrows to see it then mine
England my country theres villians woud crush thee
Thats shouting out freedom dissention to sow
In this hour of danger I heartily wish thee
That source of protection I cannot bestow
Where is the name that is dearer then thine
Where is the heart so detests in thy falling
Or woud beat wi more sorrows to see it then mine
England my country theres villians woud crush thee
Thats shouting out freedom dissention to sow
In this hour of danger I heartily wish thee
That source of protection I cannot bestow
England thou word so enchantingly sounding
Thy name in my heart thrilling raptures renew
& may thy base natives their mother land wounding
Meet the resentment of those that are true
Sharp tho the rod of restriction may bind thee
& freedom may groan wi much load over powerd
Better keep laws that have ages confind thee
Then loose them to wolves & be instant devourd
Thy name in my heart thrilling raptures renew
& may thy base natives their mother land wounding
Meet the resentment of those that are true
70
& freedom may groan wi much load over powerd
Better keep laws that have ages confind thee
Then loose them to wolves & be instant devourd
England pretenders arise for thy freedom
Alas but false prophets the best of em be
Christians was warnd of such spys not to heed em
Most surely their secrets the ruin of thee
Cut throat assasins of vandal & tarter
Once over[r]an nations that hopd to be free
Be weak land & trust em & thou art the martyr
I tell thee their triumphs the ruin of thee
Alas but false prophets the best of em be
Christians was warnd of such spys not to heed em
Most surely their secrets the ruin of thee
Cut throat assasins of vandal & tarter
Once over[r]an nations that hopd to be free
Be weak land & trust em & thou art the martyr
I tell thee their triumphs the ruin of thee
England return to past days for a caution
Where foul excesses have blotted thy page
Where rebel hypocrites maskd wi devotion
Showerd down upon thee the blackest of rage
Look at thy state in their power—was it freedom
Laws broke & kings murderd was that to be free
While basest of savages lurkd to succeed 'em
Ah look back & think what the present may be
Where foul excesses have blotted thy page
Where rebel hypocrites maskd wi devotion
Showerd down upon thee the blackest of rage
Look at thy state in their power—was it freedom
Laws broke & kings murderd was that to be free
While basest of savages lurkd to succeed 'em
Ah look back & think what the present may be
England thoust reason such times to remember
Thy wounds then recieved never healed will be
& mark as in ashes there still lurks the ember
To stir up thy weakness & then ruin thee
Never again do thou forfeit thy glory
Wading thro bloodshed in hopes to be free
Never let hist'ry repeat such a story
Look at whats past as a caution for thee
Thy wounds then recieved never healed will be
& mark as in ashes there still lurks the ember
To stir up thy weakness & then ruin thee
Never again do thou forfeit thy glory
Wading thro bloodshed in hopes to be free
Never let hist'ry repeat such a story
Look at whats past as a caution for thee
England be patient your chains may be tiring
Still better slaves in a land of your own
Then yield up to traitors to vainess aspiring
& banishd as slaves into deserts unknown
England be patient & bear your chains lightly
Tho in gauld fetters bound down as ye be
Freedoms hid sunbeams may yet glitter brightly
Still may the day come as ye may be free
Still better slaves in a land of your own
Then yield up to traitors to vainess aspiring
& banishd as slaves into deserts unknown
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Tho in gauld fetters bound down as ye be
Freedoms hid sunbeams may yet glitter brightly
Still may the day come as ye may be free
England my country I woud not decieve thee
Warm are my wishes that thou shoudst be free
England my voice in thy causes believe me
Are the souls echos entreating for thee
England as yet bear the yoke that is on thee
Still be thou peacfull as hard as it be
Wait & there doubtless may heroes be born thee
Yet may the day come when thou shalt be free
Warm are my wishes that thou shoudst be free
England my voice in thy causes believe me
Are the souls echos entreating for thee
England as yet bear the yoke that is on thee
Still be thou peacfull as hard as it be
Wait & there doubtless may heroes be born thee
Yet may the day come when thou shalt be free
England my country mong evils enthralling
Where is the name that is dearer then thine
Where is the heart so detests in thy falling
Or woud beat wi more sorrows to see it then mine
England my country theres villians woud crush thee
Thats shouting out freedom dissention to sow
In this hour of danger I heartily wish thee
That source of protection I cannot bestow
Where is the name that is dearer then thine
Where is the heart so detests in thy falling
Or woud beat wi more sorrows to see it then mine
England my country theres villians woud crush thee
Thats shouting out freedom dissention to sow
In this hour of danger I heartily wish thee
That source of protection I cannot bestow
| The early poems of John Clare | |