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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BALLAD
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
428
BALLAD
[The heavy thick mist hangs over the sun]
The heavy thick mist hangs over the sun
The grass is all wet wi the dew
I cannot come out to thee roger till noon
Fear o' spoiling my sealskin shoe
No mists need to tarry my jenny till noon
The mist simmers thin on the hill
Sun beams getting yellow will master him soon
& ye may walk out if ye will
The grass is all wet wi the dew
I cannot come out to thee roger till noon
Fear o' spoiling my sealskin shoe
No mists need to tarry my jenny till noon
The mist simmers thin on the hill
Sun beams getting yellow will master him soon
& ye may walk out if ye will
But she a new ribbon put on at the time
Which roger neer bought for her brow
& tho he neer knew of his jenny a crime
Fears jealousy wisperd it now
& she had a mantle all fringed wi silk
& a new gown as smart as coud be
Far too fine for the hassard of going to milk
Full o tucks even up to the knee
Which roger neer bought for her brow
& tho he neer knew of his jenny a crime
Fears jealousy wisperd it now
& she had a mantle all fringed wi silk
& a new gown as smart as coud be
Far too fine for the hassard of going to milk
Full o tucks even up to the knee
& shed a green purse which a gold tassel drew
& gold in it plenty beside
Such tokens spoke more then hard labour coud do
Rich rivals had gen her the pride
So rogers fears dreamt & his dreams to pursue
To green bowers in ambush he hies
Where jane like a lady soon hazards the dew
—He wishd twas a dream of his eyes
& gold in it plenty beside
Such tokens spoke more then hard labour coud do
Rich rivals had gen her the pride
So rogers fears dreamt & his dreams to pursue
To green bowers in ambush he hies
Where jane like a lady soon hazards the dew
—He wishd twas a dream of his eyes
Jane lightly skipt by wipd away the bower briar
Where roger conseald from the view
& who shoud be shooting hard by but the squire
That provd rogers dreamings too true
They kissd & they toyd upon loves pleasant lap
& thought roger true at the end
But he like a fox saw em baiting the trap
& never sought jenny agen
Where roger conseald from the view
& who shoud be shooting hard by but the squire
That provd rogers dreamings too true
429
& thought roger true at the end
But he like a fox saw em baiting the trap
& never sought jenny agen
| The early poems of John Clare | |