The Poems of John Clare :: :: University of Virginia Library

Oh! I have been thy lover long,
Soul-soothing Poesy;
If 'twas not thou inspired the song,
I still owe much to thee:
And still I feel the cheering balm
Thy heavenly smiles supply,
That keeps my struggling bosom calm
When life's rude storms are high.

Oh! in that sweet romance of life
I loved thee, when a boy,
And ever felt thy gentle strife
Awake each little joy:

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To thee was urged each nameless song,
Soul-soothing Poesy;
And as my hopes waxed warm and strong,
My love was more for thee.

'Twas thou and Nature bound, and smiled,
Rude garlands round my brow—
Those dreams that pleased me when a child,
Those hopes that warm me now.
Each year with brighter blooms returned,
Gay visions danced along,
And, at the sight, my bosom burned,
And kindled into song.

Springs came not, as they yearly come
To low and vulgar eyes,
With here and there a flower in bloom,
Green trees, and brighter skies:
Thy fancies flushed my boyish sight,
And gilt its earliest hours;
And Spring came wrapt in beauty's light,
An angel dropping flowers.

Oh! I have been thy lover long,
Soul-soothing Poesy,
And sung to thee each simple song,
With witching ecstasy,
Of flowers, and things that claimed from thee
Of life an equal share,
And whispered soft their tales to me
Of pleasure or of care.

With thee, life's errand all perform,
And feel its joy and pain;
Flowers shrink, like me, from blighting storm,
And hope for suns again:
The bladed grass, the flower, the leaf,
Companions seem to be,
That tell their tales of joy and grief,
And think and feel with me.