The early poems of John Clare :: :: University of Virginia Library

On the pismires castle hill
While the burnet buttons quakd
While beside the stone pavd rill
Cowslap bunshes nodding shakd
Bees in every peep did try
Great had been the honey shower
Soon their load was on their thigh
Yellow dust as fine as flour

Brazen magpies full of clack
Fond of insolence & sport
Chattering on the donkeys back
Percht & pulld his shaggy coat
Odd crows settld on the pad
Dames from milking trotting home
Said no sign was half so bad
& shakd their heads at ills to come

While cows restless from the ground
Plungd into the stream & drank
& the rings went wirling round
Till they toucht the flaggy bank
On the arches wall I knelt
Curious as I often did
To see what the sculpture spelt
But the moss its letters hid

189

Labour sought the water cool
& stretching took a hearty sup
The fish were playing in the pool
& turnd their milk white bellys up
Cloths laid down behind a bush
Wading close beside the pad
Deeply did the maiden blush
As she passd each naked lad

Some with lines the fish to catch
Querking boys let loose from school
Others side the hedgrow watch
Where the linnet took the wool
Tending hodge had slept too fast
While his things had strayd abroad
Swift the freed horse gallopd past
Pattering down the stoney road

The gipsey tune was loud & strong
As round the camp they dancd a gig
& much I lovd the brown girls song
While listing on the wooden brig
The shepherd he was on his rounds
The dog stopt short to lap the stream
& gingling in the fallow grounds
The ploughman urgd his reaking team

& left free to every whim
Which my rambling search coud meet
Seeking joys that suited him
Pleas'd I shar'd the shephards seat

190

Counting hues in varied wings
As each butterflye did pass
Marking morts of namless things
How they jumpt among the grass

As he eat his crust of bread
Wondering much when beetles stopt
By what instinct they were led
To the crumbles which he dropt
Loading off in order free
Trackless oer the fuzzy dust
When he calld em ‘wise as we’
Sure enough I thought they must

Often did I stop to gaze
On each spot once dear to me
Known mong those rememberd days
Of banishd happy infancy
Often did I view the shade
Where once a nest my eyes did fill
& often markd the place I playd
At ‘roley poley’ down the hill

In the woods deep shade did stand
As I passd the sticking troop
& goody begd a helping hand
To heave her rotten faggot up
The riding gate sharp gerking round
Followd fast my heels again
While echo mocks the clapping sound
& ‘clap clap’ sung the woods amain

191

The wood is sweet I love it well
In spending there my leisure hours
To look the snail its painted shell
& search about for curious flowers
Or neath the hazels leafy thatch
On a stulp or mossy ground
Little squirrels gambols watch
Oak trees dancing round & round

Green was the shade—I love the woods
When autumns wind is mourning loud
To see the leaves float on the floods
Dead within their yellow shroud
The wood was then in glory spread
I love the browning bough to see
That litters autumns dying bed
Her latest sigh is dear to me

Neath a spreading shady oak
For awhile to muse I lay
From its grains a bough I broke
To fan the teasing flies away
Then I sought the woodland side
Cool the breeze my face did meet
& the sun the shade did hide
Tho twas hot it seemed sweet

& as while I clum the hill
Many a distant charm I found
Pausing on the lagging mill
That scarcly movd its sails around
Hanging oer a gate or stile
Till my curious eye did tire
Leisure was employd awhile
Counting many a peeping spire

192

While the hot sun gun to wain
Cooling glooms fast deep[n]ing still
& freshning greeness spread the plain
As black clouds crept the southern hill
Labour sought a sheltering place
Neath some thick wood woven bower
While odd rain drops dampt his face
Heralds of the coming shower

Where the oak plank crosst the stream
Which the early rising lass
Climbs each morn wi gathering cream
Crookd pads tracking thro the grass
There where willows hing their boughs
Briars & black thorns formd a bower
Stunted thick from sheep & cows
There I stood to shun the shower

Sweet it was to feel the breeze
Blowing cool without the sun
Bumming gad flies ceasd to teaze
All was glad the shower to shun
Sweet it was to mark the flower
Rain drops glistning on its head
Perking up beneath the bower
As if rising from the dead

& full sweet it was to look
How clouds misted oer the hill
Rain drops how they dimpt the brook
Falling fast & faster still
While the gudgeons sturting bye
Cringd neath water grasses shade
Startling as each nimble eye
Saw the rings the dropples made

193

& upon the dripping ground
As the shower had ceasd again
As the eye was wandering round
Trifling troubles causd a pain
Overtaken in the shower
Bumble bees I wanderd bye
Clinging to the drowking flower
Left without the power to flye

& full often drowning wet
Scampering beetles rac'd away
Safer shelter glad to get
Drownded out from whence they lay
While the moth for nights reprief
Waited safe & snug withall
Neath the plantains bowery leaf
Where there neer a drop coud fall

Then the clouds did wear again
& full sweet it was to view
Sunbeams trembling long in vain
Now they gun to glimmer thro'
& as labour strength regains
From ales booning bounty given
So revivd the freshning plains
From the smiling showers of heaven

Sweet the birds did chant their songs
Blackbird linnet lark & thrush
Music from a many tongues
Melted from each dripping bush
Deafnd echo on the plain
As the sunbeams broke the cloud
Scarce coud help repeat the strain
Natures anthem flowd so loud

194

What a freshning feeling came
As the suns smile gleamd again
Sultry summer wa'n't the same
Such a mildness swept the plain
Breezes such as one woud seek
Trembld thro the bramble bower
Fanning sweet the burning cheek
Cooling infants of the shower

Inscets of misterious birth
Sudden struck my wondering sight
Doubtless brought by moister forth
Hid in notts of spittle white
Backs of leaves the burthen bears
Where the sunbeams cannot stray
‘Wood sears’ calld that wet declares
So the knowing shepherds say

As the cart rutt rippl'd down
With the burthen of the rain
Boys came drabbling from the town
Glad to meet their sports again
Stopping up the mimic rills
Till it forcd its frothy bound
Then the keck made water mills
In the current wiskerd round

Once again did memory pain
Oer the life she once had led
Once did manhood wish again
Childish joys had never fled
Could I lay these woes aside
Which I long have murmurd oer
‘Mix a boy wi boys’ she sighd
Fate shoud neer be teazd no more

195

Hot the sun in summer warms
Quick the roads dry oer the plain
Girls wi baskets on their arms
Soon renewd their sports again
Oer the green they sought their play
Where the cowslip bunshes grew
Quick the rush bent fannd away
As they dancd & bounded thro’

Some went searching by the wood
Peeping neath the weaving thorn
Where the pouchd lip'd cuckoo bud
From its snug retreat was torn
Where the ragged robbin grew
With its pipd stem streakd wi jet
& the crow flowers golden hue
Carless plenty easier met

Some wi many an anxious pain
Childish wishes did pursue
From the pond head gazd in vain
On the flag flowers yellow hue
Smiling in its safety there
Sleeping oer its shadowd blow
While the floods triumphing care
Crimpld round its root below

Then I stood to pause again
Retrospection sighd & smild
Musing 'tween a joy & pain
How I acted when a child
When by clearing brooks Ive bin
When the painted sky was given
Thinking if I tumbld in
I shoud fall direct to heaven

196

Many an hour had comd & gone
Sin the town last met my eye
Where huge baskets mauling on
Maids hung out their cloths to dry
Granny there was on the bench
Cooly sitting in the swail
Stopping oft a love sick wench
To pinch her snuff & hear her tale

Be the journey ere so mean
Passing by a cot or tree
In the rout theres somthing seen
Which the curious love to see
In each ramble tastes warm souls
More of wisdoms self can view
Then blind ignorance beholds
All lifes seven stages through

Rurallity I dearly love thee
Simple as thy numbers run
Epics song may soar above thee
Still thy sweetness yields to none
Cots to sing & woods & vales
Tho its all thy reed can do
These with nature shall prevail
When epics war harps broke in two