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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BALLAD
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
57
BALLAD
[When we met last love on midsummer even]
When we met last love on midsummer even
Wi' a sweet bower of wild roseys our screen
When dewey flowers to thy bosom was given
As thou entrancd on my shoulder did lean
There as in warmness of love I caressd thee
Kerchiefing thy bosom to shield from the rain
Ah little as then worst of anguish opprest me
To think from that hour we shoud neer meet again
Wi' a sweet bower of wild roseys our screen
When dewey flowers to thy bosom was given
As thou entrancd on my shoulder did lean
There as in warmness of love I caressd thee
Kerchiefing thy bosom to shield from the rain
Ah little as then worst of anguish opprest me
To think from that hour we shoud neer meet again
Sweet fell the dews on the arbour that bound us
Sweet in the runlet the clouds glided bye
Sweet shot the beam of the silver moon round us
Revealing thy smiles & the glance of thy eye
Sweet smelt the wood bine that hung oer our shoulders
But sweetness alas had invited in vain
Had fate broken silence & all he knew told us
Oh—told us that we shoud meet never again
Sweet in the runlet the clouds glided bye
Sweet shot the beam of the silver moon round us
Revealing thy smiles & the glance of thy eye
Sweet smelt the wood bine that hung oer our shoulders
But sweetness alas had invited in vain
Had fate broken silence & all he knew told us
Oh—told us that we shoud meet never again
Ah little I thought when I kisst & caressd thee
‘Good bye’ from thy lips wi such omens did fall
Ah little I thought as I lookd back & blest thee
That look was in earnest for once & for all
‘Good bye’ how it fell on the breeze of the even
Een silence in sighs seemd to murmur the strain
& fancy now thinks as our last look was leaving
‘Good bye’ it repeated yell neer meet again
‘Good bye’ from thy lips wi such omens did fall
Ah little I thought as I lookd back & blest thee
That look was in earnest for once & for all
‘Good bye’ how it fell on the breeze of the even
Een silence in sighs seemd to murmur the strain
& fancy now thinks as our last look was leaving
‘Good bye’ it repeated yell neer meet again
| The early poems of John Clare | |