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
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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 | ||