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 THE LASS OF THE VALLEY
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
399
TO THE LASS OF THE VALLEY
(UNDER A CLOUD)
Ah lovley flower round thee the storm is brewing
& my once ‘rose bud's’ opening into ruin
When each leaf fades that gave such hope in blooming
& sweets mun blight that once were so perfuming
& all destroyd by thoughtless amrous Jonneys teasing
Who saw thee once so artless gay & pleasing
Thy beauty form whose songs so often tell on
Thy virtues praisd so much but flesh so failing
& my once ‘rose bud's’ opening into ruin
When each leaf fades that gave such hope in blooming
& sweets mun blight that once were so perfuming
& all destroyd by thoughtless amrous Jonneys teasing
Who saw thee once so artless gay & pleasing
Thy beauty form whose songs so often tell on
Thy virtues praisd so much but flesh so failing
Still look thou up sweet girl above thy sorrow
The tempest rains to day & clears to morrow
If wide mouths cant be shut why thou must bear em
As ho[r]ns may chance to bud & I mun wear em
If fate condemn me poor it makes no matter
Bad news no reason why we be no better
So wanting all which thee to me Inherits
My many failings & thy injurd merits
Wi little less to say on that or tother
The tempest rains to day & clears to morrow
If wide mouths cant be shut why thou must bear em
As ho[r]ns may chance to bud & I mun wear em
If fate condemn me poor it makes no matter
Bad news no reason why we be no better
So wanting all which thee to me Inherits
My many failings & thy injurd merits
Wi little less to say on that or tother
The common weeds of every gazers freedom
Have nothing left to value or to feed em
But thou lovd bud thy every sweet uncurling
While vices evil eye its darts were hurling
Thou still hast beauty every fate prevading
Now every leaf neath blight[s] black cloud is fading
Thou still hast tempting charms that leave the[e] never
When the flowers gone to luv the stem for ever
Have nothing left to value or to feed em
But thou lovd bud thy every sweet uncurling
While vices evil eye its darts were hurling
400
Now every leaf neath blight[s] black cloud is fading
Thou still hast tempting charms that leave the[e] never
When the flowers gone to luv the stem for ever
| The early poems of John Clare | |