 | The Poems of John Clare |  |
THE HERONRY
Within a pleasant lawn where pleasure straysAnd I with friendship found her many days,
Where summer comes in haste and leaves but slow
And seems from such a place as loath to go,
Where gravel walks creep under evergreens
And lawns embosomed open lovely scenes,
There on the fish-pond one small island lies
Where a tall clump of firdales meet the eyes;
And when the spring with joy the earth invests
Each tree-top seems as bending down with nests;
For there a troop of heronshaws repair
And yearly pile a stack of dwellings there,
Crank on the trees and on their branches stand,
And the whole scene seems changed to foreign land.
| The Poems of John Clare | |