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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TO A DEAD TREE |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
TO A DEAD TREE
Old tree thou art witherd—last year I did passThe black bird snug hid in thy branches did sing
Thy shadow stretcht dark oer the green sprouting grass
& thou wert as green as thy mates of the spring
How alterd sin then not a leaf hast thou got
Thy honours brown round thee that cloathed the tree
The clown passeth by thee & heedeth it not
But thourt a warm source of reflection for me
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Lifes blossoms as frail as the leaves thou hast shed
Like thee I may boast of my honours awhile
But new springs may blossom & mine may be fled
Fond friends may bend oer the raisd turf where Im laid
& warm recollection the past may look oer
& say by my life as I say by thy shade
‘Last spring he were living & now hes no more’
| The early poems of John Clare | |