 | The Poems of John Clare |  |
100
BIRDS' LAMENT
Oh, says the linnet, if I sing,
My love forsook me in the spring,
And nevermore will I be seen
Without my satin gown of green.
My love forsook me in the spring,
And nevermore will I be seen
Without my satin gown of green.
Oh, says the pretty-feathered jay,
Now my love is fled away
For the memory of my dear
A feather of each sort I'll wear.
Now my love is fled away
For the memory of my dear
A feather of each sort I'll wear.
Oh, says the sparrow, my love is gone,
She so much that I doted on,
And e'er since for that selfsame thing
I've made a vow I ne'er will sing.
She so much that I doted on,
And e'er since for that selfsame thing
I've made a vow I ne'er will sing.
Oh, says the water-wag-my-tail,
I courted a fair one but could not prevail,
I could not with my love prevail,
So that is the reason I wag my tail.
I courted a fair one but could not prevail,
I could not with my love prevail,
So that is the reason I wag my tail.
Oh, says the pretty speckled thrush,
That changes its note from bush to bush,
My love has left me here alone
And I fear she never will return.
That changes its note from bush to bush,
My love has left me here alone
And I fear she never will return.
Oh, says the rook, and eke the crow,
The reason why in black we go—
Because our love has us forsook,
So pity us, poor crow and rook.
The reason why in black we go—
Because our love has us forsook,
So pity us, poor crow and rook.
Oh, says the owl, my love has gone,
It was her I doted on;
Since she has gone I know not where to follow,
But after her I'll whoop and hollo.
It was her I doted on;
Since she has gone I know not where to follow,
But after her I'll whoop and hollo.
| The Poems of John Clare | |