The early poems of John Clare 1804-1822: General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
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THE INVITATION |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
498
THE INVITATION
A Witch or wizard g*d knows what
Rally'd i' D[rur]ys sh*p like thunder
Or riding besom sticks or not
Her message struck a lout wi' wonder
Rally'd i' D[rur]ys sh*p like thunder
Or riding besom sticks or not
Her message struck a lout wi' wonder
She 'quired for J[ohnn]y—aye! for what
His muse had made him known g*d speed her
He hobbl'd up put on his hat
& hung like ass behind its leader
His muse had made him known g*d speed her
He hobbl'd up put on his hat
& hung like ass behind its leader
The door was shown—he gave a tap
His fingers neath the knocker trembld
A Lady! hastn'd to the rap
She welcom'd in he bowd & mumbl'd
His fingers neath the knocker trembld
A Lady! hastn'd to the rap
She welcom'd in he bowd & mumbl'd
The finery dazzld on his sight
Rooms far too fine for clowns to bide in
He blinkt like owls at candlelight
& glad woud wisht a hole to hide in
Rooms far too fine for clowns to bide in
He blinkt like owls at candlelight
& glad woud wisht a hole to hide in
He sat him down most spruce the night
His head might itch—he dare not scrat it
Each flea had liberty to bite
He dare not wave a finger at it
His head might itch—he dare not scrat it
Each flea had liberty to bite
He dare not wave a finger at it
499
But soon he provd his notions wrong
Each good friend tho most finly 'pearing
Did put clowns language on his tongue
That suited to his clownish hearing
Each good friend tho most finly 'pearing
Did put clowns language on his tongue
That suited to his clownish hearing
He feels the gentrys kindness much
The muse she mutterd pen a sonnet
Ye cant gie less returns for such
So he that moment fixt upon it
The muse she mutterd pen a sonnet
Ye cant gie less returns for such
So he that moment fixt upon it
& much he star'd & gausd about
& mutterd oer his undertaking
& glad was he to shamble out
Wi little Ceremony making
& mutterd oer his undertaking
& glad was he to shamble out
Wi little Ceremony making
| The early poems of John Clare | |