 | The Poems of John Clare |  |
144
SWORDY WELL
I've loved thee, Swordy Well, and love thee still.Long was I with thee, tending sheep and cow,
In boyhood ramping up each steepy hill
To play at ‘roly-poly’ down; and now,
A man, I trifle on thee, cares to kill,
Haunting thy mossy steeps to botanize
And hunt the orchis tribes, where nature's skill
Doth, like my thoughts, run into phantasies,
Spider and bee all mimicking at will,
Displaying powers that fool the proudly wise,
Showing the wonders of great nature's plan
In trifles insignificant and small,
Puzzling the power of that great trifle, man,
Who finds no reason to be proud at all.
| The Poems of John Clare | |