The later poems of John Clare 1837-1864 ... General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
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![]() | II. |
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'TIS NOW THE HIGHT O' SUMMER |
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![]() | The later poems of John Clare | ![]() |
'TIS NOW THE HIGHT O' SUMMER
Tis now the height o summer And where so e'er I turn my eyes
The woods do nought but murmer And the hedge rows swarm wi' flies
On dry banks the whasps are busy Wi' yellow jackets and sharp stings
Summer's a secret dirty hussy And nothing like primrosey spring
The woods do nought but murmer And the hedge rows swarm wi' flies
On dry banks the whasps are busy Wi' yellow jackets and sharp stings
Summer's a secret dirty hussy And nothing like primrosey spring
Then leaf strewn woods are greenest And full of wild primroses
The calm green air serenest On moss nests the Bird reposes
Then by the spinny rails The violet smells so sweet
Loading with perfumes all the gales And wild bees yellow feet
The calm green air serenest On moss nests the Bird reposes
Then by the spinny rails The violet smells so sweet
Loading with perfumes all the gales And wild bees yellow feet
Hot summer is a dirty hussey Swarming o'er wi' wasps and flies
That by wood sides are ever busy Wi' their burning melodies
Give me the spring wi' foot paths clean The finches nest and budding tree
The primrose in its leaves so green And 'neath white thorn I'll happy be
That by wood sides are ever busy Wi' their burning melodies
737
The primrose in its leaves so green And 'neath white thorn I'll happy be
![]() | The later poems of John Clare | ![]() |