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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HE LOVED ME BEST O' ONY'— |
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 | The later poems of John Clare |  |
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HE LOVED ME BEST O' ONY'—
1
The path that led across the fielFoot printed, dry, and clean,
Crept snake like in its trail,
Through meadows crisp, and green;
I hung upon my sweethearts arm,
Whose face was red, and bonny,
He said, as love began to warm:
He loved me best o' ony.
2
He said so, as he wiped away,The hair upon his brow,
It was the happy first o' May
And I'd just milked the cow,
The rose just peeped, and on the brere,
It scented blithe, and bonny;
He softly said, my Mary dear
I love you best o' ony.
3
He pluck'd some cowslips, from the grass,From white thorn bush, the May,
And said ‘look here my bonny lass,
What hues the flowers display.’
And then I hid them in my gown,
All in my breast, so bonny,
I took them with me, to the town,
They're the sweetest flowers o' ony.
920
4
The clouds hung over Lolham brigs,The sunshine glittered through the arch,
The ploughboy play'd his rustic rigs,
And cawing crows, sat on the larch.
He kiss't me on the neck, and cheek,
Wi face sae red, and bonny,
And said, ‘no mair he dare to speak
But he loved me best o' ony.’
To ‘Mary Hobbs’
| The later poems of John Clare | |