 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
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EMMONSALES HEATH
In thy wild garb of other times
I find thee lingering still
Furze oer each lazy summit climbs
At natures easy will
I find thee lingering still
Furze oer each lazy summit climbs
At natures easy will
Grasses that never knew a scythe
Waves all the summer long
& wild weed blossoms waken blythe
That ploughshares never wrong
Waves all the summer long
& wild weed blossoms waken blythe
That ploughshares never wrong
Stern industry with stubborn pride
& wants unsatisfied
Still leaves untouched thy maiden soil
In its unsullied pride
& wants unsatisfied
Still leaves untouched thy maiden soil
In its unsullied pride
The birds still find their summer shade
To build their nests agen
& the poor hare its rushy glade
To hide from savage men
To build their nests agen
& the poor hare its rushy glade
To hide from savage men
Nature its family protects
In thy security
& blooms that love what man neglects
Find peaceful homes in thee
In thy security
& blooms that love what man neglects
Find peaceful homes in thee
The wild rose scents thy summer air
& woodbines weave in bowers
To glad the swain sojourning there
& maidens gathering flowers
& woodbines weave in bowers
To glad the swain sojourning there
& maidens gathering flowers
Creations steps ones wandering meets
Untouched by those of man
Things seem the same in such retreats
As when the world began
Untouched by those of man
Things seem the same in such retreats
As when the world began
Furze ling & brake all mingling free
& grass forever green
All seem the same old things to be
As they have ever been
& grass forever green
All seem the same old things to be
As they have ever been
The brook oer such neglected ground
Ones weariness to sooth
Still wildly threads its lawless bounds
& chafes the pebble smooth
Ones weariness to sooth
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& chafes the pebble smooth
Crooked & rude as when at first
Its waters learned to stray
& from their mossy fountain birst
It washed itself a way
Its waters learned to stray
& from their mossy fountain birst
It washed itself a way
O who can pass such lovely spots
Without a wish to stray
& leave lifes cares a while forgot
To muse an hour away
Without a wish to stray
& leave lifes cares a while forgot
To muse an hour away
Ive often met with places rude
Nor failed their sweet to share
But passed an hour with solitude
& left my blessing there
Nor failed their sweet to share
But passed an hour with solitude
& left my blessing there
He that can meet the morning wind
& oer such places roam
Nor leave a lingering wish behind
To make their peace his home
& oer such places roam
Nor leave a lingering wish behind
To make their peace his home
His heart is dead to quiet hours
No love his mind employs
Poesy with him neer shares its flowers
Nor solitude its joys
No love his mind employs
Poesy with him neer shares its flowers
Nor solitude its joys
O there are spots amid thy bowers
Which nature loves to find
Where spring drops round her earliest flowers
Uncheckt by winters wind
Which nature loves to find
Where spring drops round her earliest flowers
Uncheckt by winters wind
Where cowslips wake the childs supprise
Sweet peeping ere their time
Ere april spreads her dappled skyes
Mid mornings powdered rime
Sweet peeping ere their time
Ere april spreads her dappled skyes
Mid mornings powdered rime
Ive stretched my boyish walks to thee
When maydays paths were dry
When leaves had nearly hid each tree
& grass greened ancle high
When maydays paths were dry
When leaves had nearly hid each tree
& grass greened ancle high
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& mused the sunny hours away
& thought of little things
That childern mutter oer their play
When fancy trys its wings
& thought of little things
That childern mutter oer their play
When fancy trys its wings
Joy nursed me in her happy moods
& all lifes little crowd
That haunt the waters fields & woods
Would sing their joys aloud
& all lifes little crowd
That haunt the waters fields & woods
Would sing their joys aloud
I thought how kind that mighty power
Must in his splendour be
Who spread around my boyish hour
Such gleams of harmony
Must in his splendour be
Who spread around my boyish hour
Such gleams of harmony
Who did with joyous rapture fill
The low as well as high
& made the pismires round the hill
Seem full as blest as I
The low as well as high
& made the pismires round the hill
Seem full as blest as I
Hopes sun is seen of every eye
The haloo that it gives
In natures wide & common sky
Cheers every thing that lives
The haloo that it gives
In natures wide & common sky
Cheers every thing that lives
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |