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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THE SHARP WIND SHIVERS |
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 | The later poems of John Clare |  |
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THE SHARP WIND SHIVERS
The sharp wind shivers in the warm gorse blossoms
And trembles in the dead grass o'er the heath
The silver rain pearls in the wild flowers bosoms
And moistens minute flowers of moss beneath
There i' the morning dew I early ramble
What time beneath the fern the weary moth
Hides from the sun in dew drops hangs the bramble
As down the rabbit track I venture forth
And trembles in the dead grass o'er the heath
The silver rain pearls in the wild flowers bosoms
And moistens minute flowers of moss beneath
There i' the morning dew I early ramble
What time beneath the fern the weary moth
Hides from the sun in dew drops hangs the bramble
As down the rabbit track I venture forth
I wander like a sunbeam i' the green
Immortal harmony of natures love
Her music charms me as a thing unseen
And hopes emblazoned sunshine gleams above
Blooming Maria is the Maid I love
The rosey young and beautiful Maria
She sometimes meets me in the tangled grove
And by her beauty sets my soul on fire
Immortal harmony of natures love
Her music charms me as a thing unseen
And hopes emblazoned sunshine gleams above
Blooming Maria is the Maid I love
The rosey young and beautiful Maria
She sometimes meets me in the tangled grove
And by her beauty sets my soul on fire
The black cock hides his dwelling i' the gorse
Wi' curly tail red eyes and shining breast
Among the bracken feeds the weary horse
On the short sward then lays him down to rest
O rosey cheeked and beautiful Maria
The evening is not chill the heaven grey
Drops dew and beauty from all crowds retire
Then why from loves embraces keep away
Wi' curly tail red eyes and shining breast
Among the bracken feeds the weary horse
On the short sward then lays him down to rest
O rosey cheeked and beautiful Maria
The evening is not chill the heaven grey
Drops dew and beauty from all crowds retire
Then why from loves embraces keep away
| The later poems of John Clare | |