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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THE REQUEST |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
321
THE REQUEST
Now the sunbeams gin to blink
& hind yon mountain looses
& each eye that might evil think
In blinded slumber closes
Now the fields a desert grown
Now the hedgers fled the grove
Put thou on thy russet gown
Shielded from the dews my love
& wander out wi me
& hind yon mountain looses
& each eye that might evil think
In blinded slumber closes
Now the fields a desert grown
Now the hedgers fled the grove
Put thou on thy russet gown
Shielded from the dews my love
& wander out wi me
We have met at early day
Slander rises early
Slanders tongues had much to say
& still I love thee dearly
Slander now to rest has gone
Only wake the courting dove
Slily steal thy bonnet on
Leave thy fathers cot my love
& wander out wi me
Slander rises early
Slanders tongues had much to say
& still I love thee dearly
Slander now to rest has gone
Only wake the courting dove
Slily steal thy bonnet on
Leave thy fathers cot my love
& wander out wi me
Clowns have passed our noonday screen
Neath the awthorns blossom
Seldom there the chance has been
To press thee to my bosom
Ploughmen now no more apear
Night winds but the thorn bough move
Squander not a minute here
Lift the door latch gently love
& wander out wi me
Neath the awthorns blossom
Seldom there the chance has been
To press thee to my bosom
Ploughmen now no more apear
Night winds but the thorn bough move
Squander not a minute here
Lift the door latch gently love
& wander out wi me
322
O the hour so sweet as this
Wi friendly night surrounded
Left free to talk embrace & kiss
By virtue only bounded
Loose it not make no delay
Put on thy doublet hat & glove
Sly ope the door & steal away
& sweet twill be my only love
To wander out wi thee
Wi friendly night surrounded
Left free to talk embrace & kiss
By virtue only bounded
Loose it not make no delay
Put on thy doublet hat & glove
Sly ope the door & steal away
& sweet twill be my only love
To wander out wi thee
| The early poems of John Clare | |