The early poems of John Clare 1804-1822: General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
 | I. |
| II. |
 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
TWO SONNETS TO MARY
I met thee like the morning tho more fair
& hopes gan travel for a glorious day
& tho night met them ere they were aware
Leading the joyous pilgrims all astray
Yet know I not tho they did miss their way
That joyed so much to meet thee—if they are
To blame or bless the fate that bade such be
Thou seem'dst an angel when I met thee first
Nor has aught made thee otherwise with me
Possesion has not cloyed my love nor curst
Fancys wild visions with reality
Thou art an angel still & hope awoke
From the fond spell that early raptures nurst
Still feels a joy to think that spell neer broke
& hopes gan travel for a glorious day
& tho night met them ere they were aware
Leading the joyous pilgrims all astray
Yet know I not tho they did miss their way
530
To blame or bless the fate that bade such be
Thou seem'dst an angel when I met thee first
Nor has aught made thee otherwise with me
Possesion has not cloyed my love nor curst
Fancys wild visions with reality
Thou art an angel still & hope awoke
From the fond spell that early raptures nurst
Still feels a joy to think that spell neer broke
The flower thats gathered beauty soon forsakes
The bliss grows feeble as we gain the prize
Love dreams of joy & in possesion wakes
Scarce time enough to hail it ere it dies
Life intermingles with its cares & sighs
& raptures dreams are ended Heavenly flower
It is not so with thee—still fancys power
Throws rainbow halos round thee & thine eyes
That once did steal their sapphire blue from heaven
Are beaming on thy cheeks bewitching dye
Where partial roses all their blooms had given
Still in fond memory with the rose can vie
& thy sweet bosom which to view was heaven
No lily yet a fairer hue supplies
The bliss grows feeble as we gain the prize
Love dreams of joy & in possesion wakes
Scarce time enough to hail it ere it dies
Life intermingles with its cares & sighs
& raptures dreams are ended Heavenly flower
It is not so with thee—still fancys power
Throws rainbow halos round thee & thine eyes
That once did steal their sapphire blue from heaven
Are beaming on thy cheeks bewitching dye
Where partial roses all their blooms had given
Still in fond memory with the rose can vie
& thy sweet bosom which to view was heaven
No lily yet a fairer hue supplies
| The early poems of John Clare | |