The early poems of John Clare 1804-1822: General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
 | I. |
|
|
| a. |
| b. |
[‘O Death were is thy victory! O grave were is thy sting’] |
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
| II. |
|
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
| a. |
| b. |
 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
[‘O Death were is thy victory! O grave were is thy sting’]
‘O Death were is thy victory! O grave were is thy sting’The inspird Bard & holy prophet sung
His hands exulting swept the trembling string
And all around with heavenly Music rung
More loud & louder thrills the trembling chords
His hands more Faster moves along the lyre
The Bards strong faith triumphant joy affords
And all his soul's enrapt in heavenly Fire
The sounds vibrating still the Notes prolong
And listning Seraphs throng the Bard around
On Wings of Easter flocks to hear the song
And smile in concert to the pleasing sound
296
'T'was thou that filld the Bards prophetic eye
He saw thy flag of ‘Peace on Earth’ unfurl'd
And heard ‘Glad tidings’ Melt along the Skye
But O! a Tear!—the Magic Scenes ensue
The Saviour dies—that sinners might be blest
—Dies!—Death & Hell's grim terrors to subdue
And make the grave a-wish'd-for-place of rest
| The early poems of John Clare | |