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 |  |
408
SONG
[Mary the day of loves pleasures has been]
Mary the day of loves pleasures has been
& the day is oerclouded & gone
These eyes all their fullness of pleasure has seen
What they never again shall look on
The sun has oft risen & shrunk from the heaven
& flowers with the night hath been wet
& many a smile on anothers been given
Since the first smile of mary was met
& the day is oerclouded & gone
These eyes all their fullness of pleasure has seen
What they never again shall look on
The sun has oft risen & shrunk from the heaven
& flowers with the night hath been wet
& many a smile on anothers been given
Since the first smile of mary was met
& eyes have been won with thy charms when thou smiled
As ripe blossoms tempting the bee
& kisses the sweets of thy lips have defiled
Since last they breathd heaven on me
Their honeys first tasting was lovly & pleasant
But others have rifld the cell
Love sickens to think of the past & the present
Bidding all that was Mary farwell
As ripe blossoms tempting the bee
& kisses the sweets of thy lips have defiled
Since last they breathd heaven on me
Their honeys first tasting was lovly & pleasant
But others have rifld the cell
Love sickens to think of the past & the present
Bidding all that was Mary farwell
The soft blush of rose blossoms shortly endure
Tho sweet in its unbudding jem
& love in long abscence may often keep pure
But jealousy blighteth the stem
We look oer the doubts of our minds & we sicken
& hope what we think is a dream
We turn to the past & loves Jealousys quicken
We cannot first pleasures redeem
Tho sweet in its unbudding jem
& love in long abscence may often keep pure
But jealousy blighteth the stem
We look oer the doubts of our minds & we sicken
& hope what we think is a dream
We turn to the past & loves Jealousys quicken
We cannot first pleasures redeem
409
The sun will rise bright tho in night it be set
& the dew drop from blossoms shall sever
But the doubtfulness mary thats rose since we met
Is pain to this bosom for ever
The beauty of things raises constant desire
The jem rarely scapeth the view
On the doubts of another first loves doth expire
& biddeth false mary adieu
& the dew drop from blossoms shall sever
But the doubtfulness mary thats rose since we met
Is pain to this bosom for ever
The beauty of things raises constant desire
The jem rarely scapeth the view
On the doubts of another first loves doth expire
& biddeth false mary adieu
| The early poems of John Clare | |