The early poems of John Clare 1804-1822: General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
 | I. |
 | II. |
|
 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
THE LABOURERS PASSING SIGH
Yon cot that does in ruins lye
I well do know the time
Said an old labourer passing bye
When it was in its prime
Its dweller too I knew him well
An idle lazey lown
Who left neglect it till it fell
By piece meal crumbles down
I well do know the time
Said an old labourer passing bye
When it was in its prime
Its dweller too I knew him well
An idle lazey lown
Who left neglect it till it fell
By piece meal crumbles down
& store of wealth he once did own
But wealth has many a wing
& sloath soon makes if let alone
A beggar of a king
A farthing from a mizers store
The loss he quickly sees
As ice the feeble sun shines oer
Turns water by degrees
But wealth has many a wing
& sloath soon makes if let alone
A beggar of a king
200
The loss he quickly sees
As ice the feeble sun shines oer
Turns water by degrees
Each thistle cares spud never topt
Spread families around
& nettles by the wall unstopt
Marchd regments oer the ground
Each coming year more idly usd
In worser plight succeeds
Till lands their crops of corn refusd
To nurse a crop of weeds
Spread families around
& nettles by the wall unstopt
Marchd regments oer the ground
Each coming year more idly usd
In worser plight succeeds
Till lands their crops of corn refusd
To nurse a crop of weeds
Industry valued is thy fame
Thourt salve for many a sore
The man tho poor thats got thy name
Gilds many a failing oer
Their credit tho not worth a straw
Meets friends were'ere they go
While idleness a sorry flaw
Turns every friend a foe
Thourt salve for many a sore
The man tho poor thats got thy name
Gilds many a failing oer
Their credit tho not worth a straw
Meets friends were'ere they go
While idleness a sorry flaw
Turns every friend a foe
His creditors was soon in view
Sad news quick takes the air
Made worse by liars adding too
As counterfits by ware
The last act safe a bankrupt brings
In idlenesses plays
The curtain oer a workhouse hings
& sorrow ends his days
Sad news quick takes the air
Made worse by liars adding too
As counterfits by ware
The last act safe a bankrupt brings
In idlenesses plays
The curtain oer a workhouse hings
& sorrow ends his days
| The early poems of John Clare | |