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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[Who does not feel the grand sublimity] |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
[Who does not feel the grand sublimity]
Who does not feel the grand sublimity
Of natures pictures touchd with endless skill
In endless changes that neer cease to be
Awakening wonder were we will
The earths broad landscape varying every hour
In every beautious shape & varying on
In inscets of all hues & leaf & flower
Till fanceys power exaus'tless seems & done
& stretching plains & wood & wilderness
Were natures pencil spurns mans puney power
To imitate the grandeur they posses
Of natures pictures touchd with endless skill
In endless changes that neer cease to be
Awakening wonder were we will
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In every beautious shape & varying on
In inscets of all hues & leaf & flower
Till fanceys power exaus'tless seems & done
& stretching plains & wood & wilderness
Were natures pencil spurns mans puney power
To imitate the grandeur they posses
Who does not feel the wild sublimity
Of natures pictures touchd with endless skill
& endless change till fancy seems to be
Almost exhausted tho she changes still
The innumerable host of living things
From the small inscet tribe that meets a birth
With almost every hour the summer brings
To things that live the wonders of the earth
Of natures pictures touchd with endless skill
& endless change till fancy seems to be
Almost exhausted tho she changes still
The innumerable host of living things
From the small inscet tribe that meets a birth
With almost every hour the summer brings
To things that live the wonders of the earth
Who does not feel the wild sublimity
Of natures pictures touchd with endless skill
& endless change till fancy seems to be
Almost exhausted tho she changes still
Each circling scene our notice dwells upon
Marks things & forms of every shape & hue
Each harmonising each & varying on
To lengths were thought seems weary to pursue
Of natures pictures touchd with endless skill
& endless change till fancy seems to be
Almost exhausted tho she changes still
Each circling scene our notice dwells upon
Marks things & forms of every shape & hue
Each harmonising each & varying on
To lengths were thought seems weary to pursue
Meadow & wood & field of varied blooms
Streaks every were a vast expanded view
Of ceasless beautys till its length becomes
A small spot shadowd on the distant blue
& over all the suns soft mellow light
& mild eternity of purple skye
Een wonder sickens at its own delight
& shrinks oerpowrd from boundless majesty
Streaks every were a vast expanded view
Of ceasless beautys till its length becomes
A small spot shadowd on the distant blue
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& mild eternity of purple skye
Een wonder sickens at its own delight
& shrinks oerpowrd from boundless majesty
| The early poems of John Clare | |