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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OH! BONNY IS THE COUNTRY |
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 | The later poems of John Clare |  |
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OH! BONNY IS THE COUNTRY
Tis Autumn wild the swim[m]ing clouds Pass low and lowery o'er the green
The swopping kite peelews aloud And sparrows in the stubbs are seen
Mid hawkweed flowers on sunday's hours I lye by Besseys side
Her arm sae white her eyes sae bright Brought every joy beside
The swopping kite peelews aloud And sparrows in the stubbs are seen
Mid hawkweed flowers on sunday's hours I lye by Besseys side
Her arm sae white her eyes sae bright Brought every joy beside
The awe tree berries clustered brown The wilding apples green and sour
Her well shaped fingers pulled them down While courting in that autumn hour
Sparrows a crowd i' Stubbs chirped loud The partridge covey flew
O'er her bonnet crown where we sat down On the grass yet moist wi' dew
Her well shaped fingers pulled them down While courting in that autumn hour
Sparrows a crowd i' Stubbs chirped loud The partridge covey flew
O'er her bonnet crown where we sat down On the grass yet moist wi' dew
O' bonny was the country girl While the brooklet at her feet
Curled up the pebbles white as pearl And hawthorns looked so sweet
Hung o'er its way and willows grey Swayed gently by the wind
The fetches blue and bell bind too Did in the white thorn bind
Curled up the pebbles white as pearl And hawthorns looked so sweet
Hung o'er its way and willows grey Swayed gently by the wind
The fetches blue and bell bind too Did in the white thorn bind
The sun it gleamed both bright and warm And sparkled in wild flowers
The gnats were dancing in a swarm And gleamy grew the hours
The butterfly and bee whissed by Loud sung the grasshopper
Save larks i' the cloud all sang so loud As each one sung to her
The gnats were dancing in a swarm And gleamy grew the hours
The butterfly and bee whissed by Loud sung the grasshopper
Save larks i' the cloud all sang so loud As each one sung to her
764
I 'pilled the straws for want o' words And plucked up bents to plait
And thought while there the loving birds Had ne'er so sweet a mate
Her white straw hat o' smallest plait And green striped cotton gown
Her hiloes bright her stockings white She on the grass sat down
And thought while there the loving birds Had ne'er so sweet a mate
Her white straw hat o' smallest plait And green striped cotton gown
Her hiloes bright her stockings white She on the grass sat down
O' bonny Bessey wi' dark hair And face as round's a apple
Wi' lilly bosom half way bare Which blue veins richly dapple
Thy pouting lips like mellow hips Thy neck hair short and curled
I clasped the[e] there sae sweet a fair The angel o the world
Wi' lilly bosom half way bare Which blue veins richly dapple
Thy pouting lips like mellow hips Thy neck hair short and curled
I clasped the[e] there sae sweet a fair The angel o the world
| The later poems of John Clare | |