 | The Poems of John Clare |  |
A HILL-SIDE HOUSE
There is a house stands in a lonely way,The hill seems falling on it all the day;
It seems half-hidden, like a robber's den,
And seems more safe for robbers than for men.
The trees look bushes scarcely half as big,
Seem taking root and growing on the rig.
The cows that travel up with little heed
Seem looking down upon the roof to feed,
And if they take a step or stumble more
They seem in danger then of tumbling o'er.
The cocks and hens that fill a little space
Are all that look like home about the place.
The woods seem ready on the house to drop,
And rabbits breed above the chimney-top.
| The Poems of John Clare | |