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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MARY BATEMAN |
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 | The later poems of John Clare |  |
MARY BATEMAN
My love she wears a cotton plaid
A bonnet o' the straw
Her cheeks are leaves o' roses spread
Her lips are like the awe
In truth she is as sweet a maid
As true love ever saw
A bonnet o' the straw
Her cheeks are leaves o' roses spread
Her lips are like the awe
In truth she is as sweet a maid
As true love ever saw
810
Her hair in ringlets black as ink
And glossy is the lovely hue
Her eyes look light as if they think
Two heaps o' diamond dew
For love I cannot sleep a wink
For half the season through
And glossy is the lovely hue
Her eyes look light as if they think
Two heaps o' diamond dew
For love I cannot sleep a wink
For half the season through
Her curls are ever in my eyes
As nets by Cupid flung
Her voice will oft my sleep surprise
More sweet than ballad sung
O' Mary Batemans curling hair
I wake and there is nothing there
As nets by Cupid flung
Her voice will oft my sleep surprise
More sweet than ballad sung
O' Mary Batemans curling hair
I wake and there is nothing there
I wake and fall asleep again
The same delight in visions rise
There's nothing can appear more plain
Than these rose cheeks and those bright eyes
I wake again and all alone
Sits darkness on his ebon throne
The same delight in visions rise
There's nothing can appear more plain
Than these rose cheeks and those bright eyes
I wake again and all alone
Sits darkness on his ebon throne
All silent runs the silver Trent
The cobweb veils are all wet through
A silver bead's on every bent
On every leaf a bleb o' dew
I sighed the moon it shone so clear
Was Mary Bateman walking here
The cobweb veils are all wet through
A silver bead's on every bent
On every leaf a bleb o' dew
I sighed the moon it shone so clear
Was Mary Bateman walking here
| The later poems of John Clare | |