John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion :: :: University of Virginia Library

Muse of the fields oft have I said farewell
To thee my boon companion loved so long
& hung thy sweet harp in the bushy dell
For abler hands to wake an abler song
Much did I fear mine homage did thee wrong
Yet loath to leave as oft I turned again
& to its wires mine idle hands would cling
Torturing it into song—it may be vain
Yet still I try ere fancy droops her wing
& hopless silence comes to numb its every string

Muse of the pasture brooks on thy calm sea
Of poesy Ive saild & tho the will
To speed were greater than my prowess be
Ive ventured with much fear of usuage ill
Yet more of joy—tho timid be my skill
As not to dare the depths of mightier streams
Yet rocks abide in shallow ways & I
Have much of fear to mingle with my dreams
Yet lovely muse I still believe thee bye
& think I see thee smile & so forget I sigh

Muse of the cottage hearth oft did I tell
My hopes to thee nor feared to plead in vain
But felt around my heart thy witching spell
That bade me as thy worshiper remain
I did & worship on—O once again
Smile on my offerings & so keep them green
Bedeck my fancies like the clouds of heaven
Mingling all hues which thou from heaven dost glean
To me a portion of thy power be given
If theme so mean as mine may merit aught of heaven

For thee in youth I culled the simple flower
That on thy bosom gained a sweeter hue
& took thy hand along lifes sunny hour
Meeting the sweetest joys that ever grew
More friends were needless & my foes were few
Tho freedom then be deemed as rudeness now
& what once won thy praise now meet disdain

Yet the last wreath I braided for thy brow
Thy smiles did so commend it made me vain
To weave another one & hope for praise again

With thee the spirit of departed years
Wakes that sweet voice that time hath rendered dumb
& freshens like to spring—loves hopes & fears
That in my bosom found an early home
Wooing the heart to extacy—I come
To thee when sick of care of joy bereft
Seeking the pleasures that are found in bloom
& happy hopes that time hath only left
Around the haunts where thou didst erst sojourn
Then smile sweet cherubim & welcome my return

With thee the raptures of lifes early day
Appear & all that pleased me when a boy
Tho pains & cares have torn the best away
& winters crept between us to destroy
Do thou commend the reccompence is joy
The tempest of the heart shall soon be calm
Tho sterner truth against my dreams rebel
Hope feels success & all my spirits warm
To strike with happier mood my simple shell
& seize thy mantles hem O say not fare thee well

Still sweet enchantress youths stray feelings move
That from thy presence their existance took
The innoscent idolatry & love
Paying thee worship in each secret nook
That fancied friends in tree & flower & brook
Shaped clouds to angels & beheld them smile
& heard commending tongues in every wind
Lifes grosser fancies did these dreams defile
Yet not entirely root them from the mind
I think I hear them still & often look behind

Aye I have heard thee in the summer wind
As if commending what I sung to thee
Aye I have seen thee on a cloud reclined
Kindling my fancies into poesy
I saw thee smile & took the praise to me
In beautys past all beautys thou wert drest
I thought the very clouds around thee knelt

I saw the sun to linger in the west
Paying thee worship & as eve did melt
In dews they seemd thy tears for sorrows I had felt

Sweeter than flowers on beautys bosom hung
Sweeter than dreams of happiness above
Sweeter than themes by lips of beauty sung
Are the young fancies of a poets love
When round his thoughts thy trancing visions move
In floating melody no notes may sound
The world is all forgot & past his care
While on thine harp thy fingers lightly bound
As winning him its melody to share
& heaven itself with him where is it then but there

Een now my heart leaps out from grief & all
The gloom thrown round by cares oershading wing
Een now those sunny visions to recall
Like to a bird I loose dull earth & sing
Lifes tempests swoons to calms on every string
& sweet enchantress if I do but dream
If earthly visions have been only mine
My weakness in thy service wooes esteem
& pleads my truth as almost worthy thine
Surely true worship makes the meanest theme divine

& still warm courage calming many a fear
Heartens my hand once more thine harp to try
To join the anthem of the minstrel year
For summers music in thy praise is high
The very winds about thy mantle sigh
Love melodies thy minstrel bards to be
Insects & birds exerting all their skill
Float in continued song for mastery
While in thy haunts loud leaps the little rill
To kiss thy mantles hem & how can I be still

There still I see thee fold thy mantle grey
To trace the dewy lawn at morn & night
& there I see thee in the sunny day
Withdraw thy veil & shine confest in light
Burning my fancies with a wild delight
To win a portion of thy blushing fame
Tho haughty fancies treat thy powers as small

& fashions thy simplicitys disclaim
Should but a portion of thy mantle fall
Oer him who wooes thy love tis reccompence for all

Not with the mighty to thy shrine I come
In anxious sighs or self applauding mirth
On mount parnassus as thine heir to roam
I dare not credit that immortal birth
But mingling with the lesser ones on earth
Like as the little lark from off its nest
Beside the mossy hill awakes in glee
To seek the mornings throne a merry guest
So do I seek thy shrine if that may be
To win by new attempts another smile from thee

If without thee neath clouds & storms & winds
Ive roamed the wood & field & meadow lea
& found no flowers but what the vulgar find
Nor met one breath of living poesy
Among such charms where inspirations be
The fault is mine & I must bear the lot
Of missing praise to merit thy disdain
To feel each idle plea tho urged forgot
I can but sigh—tho foolish to complain
Oer hopes so fair begun to find them end so vain

Then will it prove presumption thus to dare
To add fresh failings to each faulty song
Urging thy blessing on an idle prayer
To sanction silly themes it will be wrong
For one so lowly to be heard so long
Yet sweet enchantress yet a little while
Forgo impatience & from frowns refrain
The strong are not debarred thy cheering smile
Why should the weak who need them most complain
Alone in solitude soliciting in vain

But if my efforts on thine harp prove true
Which bashful youth at first so feared to try
If aught of nature be in sounds I drew
From hopes young dreams & doubts uncertainty
To these late offerings not without their sigh
Then on thine alter shall these themes be laid
& past the deeds of graven brass remain

Filling a space in time that shall not fade
& if it be not so—await disdain
Till dust shall feel no sting nor know it toiled in vain

PLEASURES OF SPRING

How beautiful the spring resumes its reign
Breathing her visions oer the earth again
The veriest clown that hath a pulse to move
Looks on her smiling face & falls in love
He plucks the wild flowers scattered from her hand
& feels warm rapture round his heart expand
Joys of the soul which nature prompts to seek
The all of poesy but its power to speak
Each bush & tree & sprouting weed is seen
Remembering spring & darkening into green
The hedgrow thorn unseals its tender shoots
& arum leaves sprout green about their roots
The ash tree swells its buds as black as jet
Whose pale green keys are not unfolded yet
The sallow glistens in its gay palm blooms
Studded with golden dust where earliest come
The solitary wild bees that survive
Their trance & keep their feeble songs alive
The rifted elm from cloathing spring recieves
Its hoplike pale forerunners of the leaves
& tasselled catkins on the hazels cling
The woodmans genial prophecys of spring
There is a calm divinity of joy
Breaths rapture round oer every ones employ
The Poet feels it neath some forward bush
The first in leaf to hide the singing thrush
Where cutting open with heart beating speed
Some book just purchased which he loves to read
Some brother poets new engaging song
Which warm anticipation sought so long
The Lover feels it in some secret place
Shut out from all but one endearing face
The idol of his heart that peerless maid
Who walks a goddess in the secret shade
Whose fairey form replete with every charm
Thrills to his heart while hanging on his arm
Listing with downward smiles some tender tale
Or sudden song of early nightingale
Bewitching woman what a boon of bliss
Hangs round thy lovliness in spots like this
When woman speaks mans heart delighted hears
Chaste conversations coupled with meek fears

Her innoscence from wrong her heart defends
Her smiles would change een savages to friends
In earthly charms she rivals heaven above
For what were angels without womans love

The Hind too feels the happiness of spring
Chopping the wattling hedge while linnets sing
Around his labour all the live long day
& flowers spring up the chronicles of may

The Boy too breaths it from the common air
While hurrying onward to the distant fair
In such glad haste as scarce can give him time
In neighbouring bush for peeping nest to climb
Or cowslip bunch that meets his eager view
About the meadows which he journeys through
& Shepherd Boy as soon as eer he finds
The brook untroubled with the winter winds
Trims up his pole & hunts in april storms
The cowdung hillocks on the moor for worms
Scarce giving patience leave his hooks to trim
Ere in he throws it from the weedy brim
Bent oer the leaning willow hour by hour
His chair for rest & house to shun a shower

The Husbandman to see each freshening sight
Feels his heart warm & flutter with delight
& cheerful mid the lengthening days turmoils
Mingles full many a ballad with his toils
Those rude old themes his fathers sung with pride
Lost & half buried to the world beside
That wed a few fond hearts & linger on
Like sweet old poets when their fame is gone
Each feels the bliss on toil or leisure fall
Bestowed by spring who offers it to all

Each flower again smiles th[r]o' its veil of dew
Like lovely abscent faces seen anew
Rich with the same perfumes & luscious smiles
They wake again our leisure to beguile
Like an old tale of pleasure told again
After long years of desolating pain
No fashions change them smell & hue the same
With memory old acquaintances proclaim
To manhoods withered root of faded joy
As when they met us while it bloomed a boy
Primroses among thorns now find their home
Like timid beautys shunning all that come

& lilys of the valley weeping dew
Live in their lonliness the season through
Save when a lovesick breeze with amourous sigh
Lifts their green veils to kiss them passing bye
The bark of trees puts gayer liveries on
& varied hues thro woodland thickets run
The black thorn deepens in a darker stain
& brighter freckles hazle shoots regain
The woodland rose [in] bright aray is seen
Whose bark recieves like leaves a vivid green
& foulroyce twigs as red as stockdoves claws
Shines in the woods to gain the bards applause
While the old oaks rude bulks in vigour warms
& mealy powder cloaths his rifted arms

In spots like these the shepherd loves to fling
His careless limbs neath the young leaves of spring
To muse upon some wild brooks hasty streams
& idly revel over waking dreams
Or stretched in carless mood upon his back
To view the blue sky & its sweeping rack
Lifting his fancies to each passing cloud
& shaping every one that journeys proud
Oer its mysterious way to forms & things
That fancys visions to his memory brings
Some like to rocks gleam on his wondering eye
Mid shoreless seas & some go swifter bye
Like ships that onward other worlds pursue
Oer bounding billows of a different hue
Soft as the paper ships he used to make
& float in boyhood on each summer lake
Some white like pallaces of marble seem
The towers of heaven scaled in many a dream
& which to waking fancies grandly shine
The abodes of one whom instinct owns divine
Some like to mountains shadow high & some
Like the dear vales that nestle round his home
With cots & groves & fountains streaming bye
Spreading long edens to the musing eye
& thus he dreams away his idle hours
Stretched mid the totter grass & nodding flowers
& wishing often on his mossy bed
For the larks wings that whistles oer his head
To realize his glowing dreams & flye
To the soft bosom of that sunny sky

To trace the seeming vales & mountains there
Which hopeless height personifys so fair
For in the raptures of his warm delight
Mans reason keeps its wisdom out of sight
Leaving the sweets of fancy running wild
& half remains as he hath been a child

By springs warm winds & gleaming smiles awoke
The noisey frogs in flaggy marshes croak
Of frost bound prisons fled & freedom won
& by each bauk that freshens in the sun
The snake curls up asleep or crooks along
Frighting the schoolboy from his sports & song
Who peeps for nests in the half feathered hedge
Or picks the pootys from the rustling sedge

The prophets of the spring dart down the brook
& scarcely gives the shepherd time to look
In glad suspence he smiles & guesses on
If twas a swallow or his dream of one
Untill the bird as to convince the swain
Shortens his speed & circles round again
Oer fallow fields & moores of russet hue
Pewets again their restless flights renew
& swoop around with harsh & shrilly cry
Oer swains at plough & shepherds wandering bye
The schoolboy hears them with a mixed delight
Of hopes & pleasures & at morn & night
Spends many a leisure hour the meadows guest
In fruitless searches for their hidden nest
The gay woodpecker with its glossy wing
Green as the plumage of returning spring
Bores at decaying trees with wakening joys
& gives spring welcome with its jarring noise
Till startled by the noise of passing clowns
Then off it bounces in its ups and downs

The Landrail now resumes its haunts again
Whom herdboys listen & pursue in vain
Its craiking noise how often when a child
Ive heard & followed with delusions wild
Wading knee deep the downy grass among
Startling grasshoppers from their idle song
How have I tracked the close & meadow ground
Listening & following the deluding sound
That onward still its craiking note renewed
Nor nearer seemed than when I first pursued

Hunt where I would or listen as I might
Twas here & there & ever out of sight
A very spirit to my wandering thought
Heard on but never to be seen or caught
So wearied with the chase I turned away
& sought new pleasure in my former play
Believing it some fairey left by night
To wander blinded by the sunny light

The partridge mid the wheat that snugly shields
His russet plumage gladdens in the fields
& home bound hinds at sunsets dewy fall
Hears once again its well known evening call

Tho these as simple trifles merely seem
To those whose souls are dead to every dream
That waking spring throws round them—there are some
Within whose bosom nature find a home
That deem them sweetest themes because they bring
The untutored music of returning spring

Springs joys are universal & they fall
From an unsparing bounty blessing all
The meanest thing that lives to crawl or flye
Has equal claims in her impartial eye
Obscure & mean as they may seem to some
She always finds a pathway to their home
Een the coy hare blest with her cheering smile
Slinks from its buried solitudes awhile
From woodland lares all winters wants could find
Where brown sedge whistled to the res[t]less wind
To clover leas & there it squats to play
In timid raptures dewy hours away
Till dangers shadows haunt its nimble eye
& startling netherd boy goes whooping bye
Then off it scampers mid the shielding grain
Till all is still & out it skips again
& the wild rabbit less reserved & coy
Squats on the heaths thyme hills in nibbling joy
& crafty fox the blackthorn holts among
Plays round its den like kittens with her young

March brought a little flower spring loves to wear
The brightest jewel in her shining hair
That like the daisey wears a lowly head
& scarcely peers above its grassy bed
& mingling in their blooms they shine afar
An earthly sky of gold & silver stars

Like them its open look smiles thro the day
& shuts at eve like pleasure tired of play
In botany it claims an humble shrine
& wears the name of “lesser celadine”
But by another name the shepherd swain
Marks it on young springs dewy paths again
With village boys he calls it buttercup
Yet not the one with which the faireys sup
That holds at night the nectar drops of dew
To cheer their mirth the feasting season thro
Which proudly leaves the grass to meet the sun
& waits till summer hath its reign begun
With head less haughty this is taught to shine
Of looks bewitching & of hues divine
It early comes & glads the shepherds eye
Like a bright star spring-tempted from the sky
Reflecting on its leaves the suns bright rays
That sets its pointed glories in a blaze
So bright that childerns fancies it decieves
Who think that sunshine settles in its leaves
& playful hold it neath each others chins
To see it stain with gold their lily skin
& he who seems to win the brightest spot
Feels future wealth & fortune as his lot
Ah happy childhood with that sunny brow
No wealth can match what nature gives thee now
& like these blossoms of the golden bloom
Thy spring must fade tho summers wealth may come

From every village groups of merry boys
Throng field & meadow seeking after joys
& many a littered flower & broken bough
Wear the rude marks of their intrusions now
& moss & feathers scattered here & there
With birds left mourning oer their sad despair
Bespeak their young intrusions every day
& show the ravage of their tyrant play
With eager speed to woodland shades they rush
& peep around the pastures stumpy bush
Pushing the boughs aside with eager haste
& climbing bushes that consceal a nest

Tho thorns full oft their little deeds chastise
& prick their fingers ere they gain the prize
The deepest wound costs but a tear or sigh
& new found nests soon warm such sorrows dry

Thus on they sport till liberty expires
& school again each runaway requires
To con his thumb soiled book with many a sigh
Oft turning to the door an anxious eye
Where sunbeams flicker thro' upon the walls
& sparrows chirp with freedoms welcome calls
Pictureing restraint more irksome to the mind
& heightening pleasures which they left behind

Noisey marauders of the plashy green
Now spitefull geese with their young broods are seen
Nibbling the morning grass bejemmed with dew
As yellow as the flowers they wander through
Or rippling oer the pond in twittering glee
Chasing each waterflye or crossing bee
While their protectors watch with wary eye
Each fancied enemy that passes bye
Hissing & gabbling frightning far away
The meddling childern as they pass to play
Een dogs will loose their independant pride
& drop their tails & fearing turn aside

Now walks the man of taste among the woods
& fields—& where small runnels rill their floods
Loud laughing on their errands watering flowers
& down the narrow lanes he walks for hours
All carpeted anew with young silk grass
So soft that birds hear not the feet that pass
Close by their nests—he peeps the leaves among
& marks with rapture how they brood their young
Then drops beneath the bushes to peruse
A pocket poet of some favoured muse
Then plucks a primrose from its leafey bed
To place between the pages which he read
Instead of doubling down to mark the place
& lye a relic in times withered space
Reminding him as seasons take to wing
What joys he felt on such a spot in spring
With such sweet essence of earths fading fruits
His soul is chronicled above the brutes
Such fine ideas that makes life sublime
& gains a look in heaven before its time
For heaven is happiness & he enjoys
That happy dream whoso his mind employs
He has his favourite bush & favourite tree
& nooks on commons where he loves to be

He makes his favourite bank a summer seat
& posts & stones he'll leave his path to greet
Where time with mossy prophecys presage
They are her favoured patriarchs for age
The stick he leans on was a favourite shoot
That ten years back was severed from the root
Of some prized relic or boy favoured tree
& keeps it still his daily friend to be
With such a waste of happiness he meets
As like a bee he strays collecting sweets
& gleans right covetous & never tires
But thro the dayspring saunters & admires
& when the night comes on his fancies wear
A wish to lodge with birds & still be there

How beautiful the wind awakes & flings
Disordered graces oer the face of things
Stirring the shorter grass in twittering gleams
Like rippling shadows over shallow streams
& waving that which grows more rank & high
In deepening waves of darker majesty
A green & living sea in life arayed
Wave rolling over wave shade chasing shade
In every different grade of stirring hue
More swifter then the swallow can pursue
Who journeys low & rapid oer the lea
& seemly swims along the summer sea
The brushing billows rush oer passing feet
As waves are broken oer the rocks they meet
The woods too round the landscape roll a sea
Of varied hues & wild imensity
Heaving fantastic on the wandering eye
Hugh swelling billows to the smiling sky
Here oft the poet wanders & employs
His leisure midst this wilderness of joys
Seeking the spots his heart the most approves
& wild grown pastures which he dearly loves
The common furze clad heath all wild where sheep
Paddle their thousand tracks & rabbits leap
Playfully battering every little hill
Thrown up by moles that burrow at their will
Where tracks of waggons map the vagrant sward
That claims no fence or ownerships regard
Yet nature cloaths it oer with tastefull care
In garments which the may is proud to wear

Furze never out of blossom & the broom
That rivals sunshine with their golden bloom
Where mossy brooks their shallow floods distill
Forceing their way & wandering at their will
Here thoughts run wild by starts in various moods
Now eddying as the runnel thro the woods
Dallying with pleasant things as it with leaves
Then starts & wider space its glow recieves
Like cataracts led with hurried eager ire
As almost kindles water into fire
His thoughts rush out with joys unfelt before
& maddening raptures make his soul run oer
With its divine consceptions till they rise
Forgetting earth & mix with paradise

Now long & green grows every laughing day
Till clouds seem weary with their length of way
& when the evening in her leisure comes
Night threats no terrors in its winter glooms
That prompted dismal tales round sooty hearth
& midnight murders left small room for mirth
Revealed by many a horrid screaming ghost
As heard by travellers upon wild heaths lost
Or seen in ancient rooms by folks abed
To draw the curtains with quick hand tho dead
& walk the stair case with unearthly tread
Makeing each listners very flesh to creep
& men & childern even dread to sleep
Night throws the mantle bye she wildly wore
& winter like a wizard reigns no more
Borrowing the voices of the bursting wind
To howl its dreads on the benighted hind
Who heard in tempests ringing oer his head
Ten thousand yells to stop him as he fled
These all have fled their sabbath glooms to keep
Till desolate winter startles them from sleep
In spellbound caves & charnel vaults they hide
Where bats are bred & dreadful dreams abide
Eve cometh now with her attendant moon
As pleasant as a cloudy day in June
& daylight ever stays the whole night long
To list the nightingales unsleeping song
& night grim tyrant in fears dread parade
Is now a bankrupt broken in his trade
The winds play harmless in the fledging bowers

Soft as the motion of the shaken flowers
Disturbing not the young moths easy flight
That steals to kiss the sleeping flowers at night
The clouds in beautious order thro the sky
Veil & not hide the moonlight passing bye
Mantled in beautious forms that seem to be
The travelling spirits of eternity

The husbandman released from toiling day
Muses in pleasure on his homeward way
Oft gazing on the pale moons peaceful face
& pictures there a quiet resting place
Deeming it heaven or somthing near akin
To what all wishes are so warm to win
When dark hereafter takes him as her guest
He deems that place a sabbath land of rest
Thinking his soul shall gather wing & flye
To that pale eden on the soft blue sky

The lingering milkmaid now tho far from town
Loiters along & sets her buckets down
Nor starts at sounds that meet her listening ear
For happy hope takes place of every fear
& paints her love in every object round
& fancy hears his voice in every sound

The boy neer mends his pace but soodles on
Blessing the moonlight when the day is gone
& even dares to pause amid the shade
Of the old ruined castle undismayed
To mark the change—that some few weeks ago
Hid its blank walls in draperys of snow
Marking in joy on its once naked tower
Snub elders greening & full many a flower
Of Bloodwalls glowing with rich tawney streaks
Blushing in beauty from the gaping creeks
Swathy yet lovely by each zepher fanned
As the soft cheek of maidens summer tanned
Wreaths nature loves round ruins brows to bind
From seeds took thither by the birds & wind
He views those garlands & seems struck the while
That things so abject should be seen to smile
Oft turning to the moon a wondering eye
That seems to journey with him thro' the sky
Moves as he moves & stops as glad the while
To wait his leisure while he climbs a stile
He walks it walks & keeps his every pace

Runs when he runs & glories in the race
He trys his utmost speed to leave behind
His shining friend & thinks he beats the wind
For swiftness as he pants & hurries on
Inly exulting that the race is won
But spite of every vale & weary hill
He passed & clomb so swift it followed still
& while he hums oer each old tune he loves
Do as he will it moveth as he moves
Swift as his thoughts his speed is all in vain
He turns to look & there it is again
Plump opposite him gleaming pale & wan
As near as when his eager race began
He thinks on the long ways he left behind
& vain wild notions fill his puzzled mind
The gossip tales that winter did supply
Urge their faint shadows on his gazing eye
& the pale shades that cloud the moon so wan
His artless fancys fashions to a man
Oft has he heard at night when toil was done
Rude tales of jiants dwelling in the moon
& this as one of those his mind supplies
That takes his nightly journeys thro the skies
So here he stops nor urges speed again
Deeming a race with jiants doubly vain

Now many an eve in simple moods of praise
The Hind right thankful for the lengthening days
Will oer his Bible in rich musings lean
Thats wrapt in baize to keep the covers clean
Noteing with joy as on he reads to see
The truth & power of sacred poesy
Those texts of spring he gets by heart to tell
His fellows which describe the time so well
As “now the time of singing birds is come”
& “lilys among thorns do make their home”
“The winters past the rain is oer & gone”
These are the texts that lead his raptures on
“The vine shoots forth & yields a goodly smell”
He finds no book that tells the time so well
& ere he goes to bed in humble ways
He breaths a prayer & fervently he prays
For blessings on his family around
That in the sooty corner sit profound
Begging alike to bear the worst when sent

All breathe amen & go to bed content
Prayers are the wings by which the soul doth flye
To gather blessings from the bountious sky
& they are blest whose days thus calmly wear
Each met in hope & finished in a prayer