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 IRISH EMIGRANT |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
THE IRISH EMIGRANT
To look on past joys tis the sun shine of memory
When my youth dwelt in erin the isle of all isles
When at even I wanderd abroad wi sweet leminey
& livd as in heaven on kisses & smiles
When we sought the cool shade were blythe even was lulling
The hot day to sleep—& our labour to joy
When I for her hand the small daisey was pulling—
O the sunshine of life goes wi days that are bye
When my youth dwelt in erin the isle of all isles
When at even I wanderd abroad wi sweet leminey
& livd as in heaven on kisses & smiles
When we sought the cool shade were blythe even was lulling
The hot day to sleep—& our labour to joy
When I for her hand the small daisey was pulling—
O the sunshine of life goes wi days that are bye
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I once had my hut & small nook of potatoes
I once in my hut fed my couple of swine
But the worst—ah the worst of all unsettled cre'tures
I wanderd away from the peace that was mine
Now ragd & forlorn in a strange land I labour
Where plenty showers blessings to all but poor I
Where nones nigh to pity, dear love, nor a neighbour
—When I look towards Erin Im ready to dye
I once in my hut fed my couple of swine
But the worst—ah the worst of all unsettled cre'tures
I wanderd away from the peace that was mine
Now ragd & forlorn in a strange land I labour
Where plenty showers blessings to all but poor I
Where nones nigh to pity, dear love, nor a neighbour
—When I look towards Erin Im ready to dye
A wide sea is roaring 'tween me & my dwelling
A long track has parted my darling from me
My heart gauling tale to a strange land Im telling
A land that is deaf to my sorrows & me
O love fare ye well all my hopes are in mourning
Ise neer can get money to wander to you
My toil tho so hard neerll support my returning
Sweet Erin & leminey ever adieu
A long track has parted my darling from me
My heart gauling tale to a strange land Im telling
A land that is deaf to my sorrows & me
O love fare ye well all my hopes are in mourning
Ise neer can get money to wander to you
My toil tho so hard neerll support my returning
Sweet Erin & leminey ever adieu
| The early poems of John Clare | |