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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TO THE RURAL MUSE |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
TO THE RURAL MUSE
Simple enchantress, wreathd in summer blooms
Of slender bent stalks topt wi' feathery down
Heaths creeping fetch & glaring yellow brooms
& ash keys wavering on thy rushey crown
Simple enchantress how Ive wooed thy smiles
How often sought thee far from flusht renown
Sought thee unseen where fountain waters fell
Touchd thy wild reed unheard, in weary toils
& tho my heavy hand thy song defiles
Tis hard to leave thee & to bid farwell
Of slender bent stalks topt wi' feathery down
Heaths creeping fetch & glaring yellow brooms
& ash keys wavering on thy rushey crown
Simple enchantress how Ive wooed thy smiles
How often sought thee far from flusht renown
Sought thee unseen where fountain waters fell
Touchd thy wild reed unheard, in weary toils
& tho my heavy hand thy song defiles
Tis hard to leave thee & to bid farwell
436
Simple enchantress ah from all renown
Far far, my soul hath warmd in bliss to see
The varied figures on thy summer gown
That natures fingure works so witchingly
The silken leaf the varied colord flower
Green nestling bower bush & high towering tree
Brooks of the sunny green & shady dell
Ah sweet full many a time they've bin to me
& tho my weak song faulters sung to thee
I cannot wild enchantress bid farwell
Far far, my soul hath warmd in bliss to see
The varied figures on thy summer gown
That natures fingure works so witchingly
The silken leaf the varied colord flower
Green nestling bower bush & high towering tree
Brooks of the sunny green & shady dell
Ah sweet full many a time they've bin to me
& tho my weak song faulters sung to thee
I cannot wild enchantress bid farwell
Still feign to seek thee tho I wind the brook
When morning sunbeams oer the waters glide
& trace thy footsteps in the lonly nook
As evening moists the daisey by thy side
Ah if I wooe thee on thy bed of thyme
If courting thee be deemd ambitions pride
Ah tis so passing sweet wi thee to dwell
If love for thee in clowns be calld a crime
Forgive presumption—O thou queen of ryhme
Ive lovd thee long I cannot bid farwell
When morning sunbeams oer the waters glide
& trace thy footsteps in the lonly nook
As evening moists the daisey by thy side
Ah if I wooe thee on thy bed of thyme
If courting thee be deemd ambitions pride
Ah tis so passing sweet wi thee to dwell
If love for thee in clowns be calld a crime
Forgive presumption—O thou queen of ryhme
Ive lovd thee long I cannot bid farwell
| The early poems of John Clare | |