 | The Poems of John Clare |  |
PLOUGHMAN SINGING
Here morning in the ploughman's songs is metEre yet one footstep shows in all the sky,
And twilight in the east, a doubt as yet,
Shows not her sleeve of grey to know her by.
Woke early, I arose and thought that first
In winter-time of all the world was I.
The old owls might have hallooed if they durst,
But joy just then was up and whistled by
A merry tune which I had known full long,
But could not to my memory wake it back,
Until the ploughman changed it to the song.
O happiness, how simple is thy track!
—Tinged like the willow shoots, the east's young brow
Glows red and finds thee singing at the plough.
| The Poems of John Clare | |