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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[So soon in the morning, love were are ye toiling] |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
[So soon in the morning, love were are ye toiling]
So soon in the morning, love were are ye toiling
& tracking the grass ere its dryd in the sun
Im seeking my cow, said the maid simply smiling
& much wish the job of my milking was done
But Ive trackd the heath & full vain are my rambles
& Ive sought the shelter of brake & of burn
Till Im wet wi the dewey grass & tore wi the brambles
& now emty handed Im going to return
& tracking the grass ere its dryd in the sun
Im seeking my cow, said the maid simply smiling
& much wish the job of my milking was done
But Ive trackd the heath & full vain are my rambles
& Ive sought the shelter of brake & of burn
Till Im wet wi the dewey grass & tore wi the brambles
& now emty handed Im going to return
As we look on the rosey preparing so sweetly
To open its bud & the lilley its bell
A fresh glimpse of beauty did win me compleatly
& my tongue told no lye when it wished her well
I deemd it a chance & assistance I profferd
To search fort all over by brake & by burne
She raisd me a smile for the thing that I offerd
But bended & blushd when she met its return
To open its bud & the lilley its bell
A fresh glimpse of beauty did win me compleatly
& my tongue told no lye when it wished her well
448
To search fort all over by brake & by burne
She raisd me a smile for the thing that I offerd
But bended & blushd when she met its return
& we searchd the pasture of natures wild planting
& paddl'd the shallows of fountain & slough
Till we found at last what her search was long wanting
& she thanked me simply & turnd to her cow
& she pulld a twig of broom flowers from her bonnet
Tilt witherd I kept the sweet token so true
& long did the prize warm my heart to think on it
When I found my choice mong the brambles & dew
& paddl'd the shallows of fountain & slough
Till we found at last what her search was long wanting
& she thanked me simply & turnd to her cow
& she pulld a twig of broom flowers from her bonnet
Tilt witherd I kept the sweet token so true
& long did the prize warm my heart to think on it
When I found my choice mong the brambles & dew
& I waited long for the milkings repeating
& thought that one day was the longest Id seen
Ere even tide blest me wi loves second meeting
Wher dew drops were wasted & pasture pads clean
& there I was blest wi my pleasures returning
Where I past wi the maiden one unbroken vow
Nor shall she repent of the chance meeting morning
Nor wish shed denyd me the seeking her cow
& thought that one day was the longest Id seen
Ere even tide blest me wi loves second meeting
Wher dew drops were wasted & pasture pads clean
& there I was blest wi my pleasures returning
Where I past wi the maiden one unbroken vow
Nor shall she repent of the chance meeting morning
Nor wish shed denyd me the seeking her cow
| The early poems of John Clare | |