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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THERE'S LOVE IN HER SILENT LOOKS |
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 | The later poems of John Clare |  |
1071
THERE'S LOVE IN HER SILENT LOOKS
With coal black hair and rose red face
And skin as white as milk
My sweetheart keeps a servants place
And wears a gown o' silk
I've loved the bonny maid for years
And love her person still
Birds sing my fondness in her ears
Of me she thinks no ill
And skin as white as milk
My sweetheart keeps a servants place
And wears a gown o' silk
I've loved the bonny maid for years
And love her person still
Birds sing my fondness in her ears
Of me she thinks no ill
Her beauty blossoms like summers hour
Her face resembles springs fair flower
Her face is fair her hair is black
I love the gown upon her back
My heart in melody does ring
Her praises I will ever sing
Her smile is dearer than the flower
That bloometh in its transient hour
Her face resembles springs fair flower
Her face is fair her hair is black
I love the gown upon her back
My heart in melody does ring
Her praises I will ever sing
Her smile is dearer than the flower
That bloometh in its transient hour
There is love in her silent looks
There is love in the touch of her hand
Her eye sparkles bright as the brooks
Her face is the best in the land
There is love in the touch of her hand
Her eye sparkles bright as the brooks
Her face is the best in the land
That neck and that face and that cheek
My love ever yearneth to kiss
I that oppunity fainly would seek
I'm mad when I'm thinking on this
Her eyes so bright her face so fair
Her rose red cheek her coal black hair
I love the maid full true and well
And ever on her virtues dwell
My love ever yearneth to kiss
I that oppunity fainly would seek
I'm mad when I'm thinking on this
Her eyes so bright her face so fair
Her rose red cheek her coal black hair
I love the maid full true and well
And ever on her virtues dwell
1072
My dear Mary I but seldom see
Her brown silk gown it looks so sweet
Her cotton drab garments give to me
I love her when passing down the street
I long to call Mary my own
And clasp round her shoulders broad
And to be with her when alone
Down the pleasant greenwood sward
And breathe in her delicate ear
My whisper of love and of fear
Her brown silk gown it looks so sweet
Her cotton drab garments give to me
I love her when passing down the street
I long to call Mary my own
And clasp round her shoulders broad
And to be with her when alone
Down the pleasant greenwood sward
And breathe in her delicate ear
My whisper of love and of fear
| The later poems of John Clare | |