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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[Spring of life fare ye well I have tasted your sweetness] |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
[Spring of life fare ye well I have tasted your sweetness]
Spring of life fare ye well I have tasted your sweetness
& livd till your days over cast
Ive baskd in your shining & witnessd your fleetness
Your sunny sky glimmerd & past
Ties that hold comforts like cobwebs are brakeing
A bleb on the fountain their value can tell
Ive dreamd of thy sweetness my vision is waking
I leave thee for others to dream—fare thee well
& livd till your days over cast
Ive baskd in your shining & witnessd your fleetness
Your sunny sky glimmerd & past
Ties that hold comforts like cobwebs are brakeing
A bleb on the fountain their value can tell
Ive dreamd of thy sweetness my vision is waking
I leave thee for others to dream—fare thee well
Summer of life I am hailing thy coming
Summer of life thou of comforts can tell
But leaves they are tender of blossoms full blooming
& tempests is blighting—lifes pleasures fare well
Summer of life thou hast calms for thy portion
But king oer thy pleasures unce[rt]antys dwell
The smoothest of waters that calm on the ocean
Deform into billows—lifes pleasures farwell
Summer of life thou of comforts can tell
But leaves they are tender of blossoms full blooming
& tempests is blighting—lifes pleasures fare well
Summer of life thou hast calms for thy portion
But king oer thy pleasures unce[rt]antys dwell
The smoothest of waters that calm on the ocean
Deform into billows—lifes pleasures farwell
416
Autum of life resignation does find thee
Ripend reflection thy coming doth hail
But winter sad winter that follows behind thee
Our ripend reflection is ready to fail
When age & when pain on its last rock has wrack'd us
& death is unsealing his errand to view
While the last hope of hopes still remaineth conjectures
Fear trembles while bidding lifes troubles adieu
Ripend reflection thy coming doth hail
But winter sad winter that follows behind thee
Our ripend reflection is ready to fail
When age & when pain on its last rock has wrack'd us
& death is unsealing his errand to view
While the last hope of hopes still remaineth conjectures
Fear trembles while bidding lifes troubles adieu
| The early poems of John Clare | |