The later poems of John Clare 1837-1864 ... General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
 | I. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| 1. |
| II. |
|
SHE'S LOVELY IN HER PERSON |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
| 32. |
 | The later poems of John Clare |  |
780
SHE'S LOVELY IN HER PERSON
She's lovely in her person And taller in her size
Then some bards make a verse on And lovely are her eyes
She's worth a Poets ransome She chills my heart on fire
Her face is very handsome And warm as my desire
O' beautifull is woman In her secret love for Man
Like flowers eternal blooming And I'll win her if I can
Then some bards make a verse on And lovely are her eyes
She's worth a Poets ransome She chills my heart on fire
Her face is very handsome And warm as my desire
O' beautifull is woman In her secret love for Man
Like flowers eternal blooming And I'll win her if I can
I'll win her and I['ll] wear her Like a nose gay on the breast
And on my heart I'll bear her Like a nosegay sweetly prest
She shall be mine for ever And that I'm sure she shall
And a pleasant kiss I'll give her As a sweet and lovely girl
Her cheeks are like two roses And her lips are ruby red
And whatever truth supposes I should like her downy bed
And on my heart I'll bear her Like a nosegay sweetly prest
She shall be mine for ever And that I'm sure she shall
And a pleasant kiss I'll give her As a sweet and lovely girl
Her cheeks are like two roses And her lips are ruby red
And whatever truth supposes I should like her downy bed
Her cheeks are bonny roses And auburn is her hair
Her eye as dark as sloes is Her neck is lilly fair
She's love among the roses When the leaves wear morning gems
Her bosom white as snows is Her eyes two diadems
To conquor and to kill ye If ye worship them too long
And will ye love or will ye She's the sweetest girl in Song
Her eye as dark as sloes is Her neck is lilly fair
She's love among the roses When the leaves wear morning gems
Her bosom white as snows is Her eyes two diadems
To conquor and to kill ye If ye worship them too long
And will ye love or will ye She's the sweetest girl in Song
| The later poems of John Clare | |