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 DEPARTED |
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 | The later poems of John Clare |  |
THE DEPARTED
And art thou doomed as one of those
To pass away and be forgot
So sweet as oped that summer rose
So green as seem'd that happy spot
Where thou wast fairest of the fair
And dearer than ought else beside
Though much of sweetness blossom'd there
And thou too—to be cast aside
To pass away and be forgot
So sweet as oped that summer rose
So green as seem'd that happy spot
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And dearer than ought else beside
Though much of sweetness blossom'd there
And thou too—to be cast aside
The lady of that splendid home
Is it no more thy place to be
Can strangers have the face to come
To ape the original of thee
The very flowers they know thy face
The birdies they all know thy voice
The trees put on their summer grace
And lawns grow velvet at thy choice
Is it no more thy place to be
Can strangers have the face to come
To ape the original of thee
The very flowers they know thy face
The birdies they all know thy voice
The trees put on their summer grace
And lawns grow velvet at thy choice
To think that some few days ago
This bloom of thought this flower of show
Should fade and disappear away
To senseless earth and noisome clay
Where all was life and gaiety
Now loathsome to the meanest eye
Hid in the dark and vaulted tomb
Where grass can't grow or flowers bloom
This bloom of thought this flower of show
Should fade and disappear away
To senseless earth and noisome clay
Where all was life and gaiety
Now loathsome to the meanest eye
Hid in the dark and vaulted tomb
Where grass can't grow or flowers bloom
Those eyes of fire that kept awake
The lovers heart to bear & break
Are gone out dark in that lone cell
No more on earth in light to dwell
Death sighs that left that budding breast
Where Heavens own light her bosom blest
Like as a light cloud hides the sun
Her eyes closed when the worst was done
The lovers heart to bear & break
Are gone out dark in that lone cell
No more on earth in light to dwell
Death sighs that left that budding breast
Where Heavens own light her bosom blest
Like as a light cloud hides the sun
Her eyes closed when the worst was done
Friends might gaze and wonder why
That body could so silent lye
She lays so like the life in sleep
Her nearest kin could hardly weep
That blessed spirit's has taken its flight
To the celestial source of light
A full blown rose pluck'd in its bloom
To fade and die in the silent tomb
That body could so silent lye
She lays so like the life in sleep
Her nearest kin could hardly weep
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To the celestial source of light
A full blown rose pluck'd in its bloom
To fade and die in the silent tomb
| The later poems of John Clare | |