 | The Poems of John Clare |  |
306
HEREAFTER
The past we know; but hope can find no restIn what is gone; time's flood is rolling there;
And childhood's play, green memories once so blest,
And youth's love-bowers so ignorant of care
Are overwhelmed in waters of despair.
Hope's dreary visits there can find no rest,
But turn again to this sad heart to sigh.
The past is o'er, the present is distress;
Hope sickens in the storms that pass not by,
While deep as darkness fate's hid mysteries lie,
Whose very shadows seem to startle fear,
And shrinks from knowledge that approaches nigh,
The knowledge where futurity sojourns,
Where every traveller goes and none returns.
| The Poems of John Clare | |