The later poems of John Clare 1837-1864 ... General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
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 | The later poems of John Clare |  |
SONG
[The autumns come again]
The autumns come again
& the clouds descend in rain
& the leaves they are falling from the wood
The summer's voice is still
Save the clacking of the mill
& the lowly muttered thunder of the flood
& the clouds descend in rain
& the leaves they are falling from the wood
The summer's voice is still
Save the clacking of the mill
& the lowly muttered thunder of the flood
There's nothing in the mead
But the rivers muddy speed
& the willow leaves all littered by its side
Sweet voices all are still
In the vale & on the hill
& the summer's blooms are withered in their pride
But the rivers muddy speed
& the willow leaves all littered by its side
Sweet voices all are still
In the vale & on the hill
& the summer's blooms are withered in their pride
548
Fled is the cuckoo's note
To countries far remote
& the nightingale is vanished from the wood
If you search the Lordship round
There is not a blossom found
& where the haycock scented is the flood
To countries far remote
& the nightingale is vanished from the wood
If you search the Lordship round
There is not a blossom found
& where the haycock scented is the flood
My true loves fled away
Since we walked in cocks of hay
On the sabbath in the summer of the year
& she's nowhere to be seen
On the meadow or the green
But she's coming when the happy spring is near
Since we walked in cocks of hay
On the sabbath in the summer of the year
& she's nowhere to be seen
On the meadow or the green
But she's coming when the happy spring is near
When the birds begin to sing
& the flowers begin to spring
& the cowslips in the meadows reappear
When the woodland oaks are seen
In their monarchy of green
Then Mary & loves pleasure will be here
& the flowers begin to spring
& the cowslips in the meadows reappear
When the woodland oaks are seen
In their monarchy of green
Then Mary & loves pleasure will be here
| The later poems of John Clare | |