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 early poems of John Clare |  |
326
RECOLLECTIONS AFTER AN EVENING WALK
Just as the even bell rung we set outTo wander the fields & the meadows about
& the first thing we markt that was lovly to view
Was the sun hung on nothing & bidding adieu
He seemd like a ball of pure gold in the west
In a cloud like a mountain blue dropping to rest
The clouds all around him were tingd wi his rays
& the trees at a distance seemd all on a blaze
Till lower & lower & sunk from our sight
& blue mist came creeping wi silence & night
The woodman then ceasd wi his hatchet to hack
& bent a way home wi his kid on his back
The mower too lapt up his scythe from our sight
& put on his jacket & bid us good night
The thresher once lumping we heard him no more
He left his barn dust & had shut up his door
The shepherd had told all his sheep in his pen
& hummed his song to his cottage agen
But the sweetest of all seeming music to me
Was the song of the clumbsy brown beetle & bee
The one was a hastning away to his hive
The other was just from his sleeping alive
327
& when batterd down he was puzzld to rise
The little gay moth too was lovly to view
A dancing wis liley white wings in the dew
He wiskd oer the water pudge flirting & airy
& perchd on the down headed grass like a fairy
& there came the snail from his shell peeping out
As fear full & cautious as thieves on the rout
The sly jumping frog too had venturd to tramp
& the glow worm had just gun to light up his lamp
To sip of the dew the worm pep[t] from his den
But dreading our footsteps soon vanishd agen
& numbers of creatures apeard in our sight
That live in the silence & sweetness of night
Climbing up the tall grasses or scaling the bough
But these were all namless unoticd till now
& then we wound round neath the brooks willow row
& lookt at the clouds that kept passing below
The moons image too in the brook we coud seet
As if twas the tother world under our feet
& we listnd well pleasd at the guggles & groans
The water made passing the pebbles & stones
& then we turnd up by the rut rifted lane
& sought for our cot & the village again
For night gatherd round & shut all from the eye
& a black sutty cloud crept all over the sky
The wet bush we past soon as touchd it woud drop
& the grass neath our feet was as wet as a mop
& as to the town we aproachd very fast
The bat even popt in our face as he past
328
& by the barn side we saw many a mouse
Quirking round for the kernels that litterd about
As shook from the straw which the thresher hurld out
& then we came up to our cottage once more
& shut out the night dew & lockt up the door
The dog barkd a welcome well pleasd at our sight
& the owl oer our cot flew & woopt a good night
| The early poems of John Clare | |