 | The Poems of John Clare |  |
528
OLD POESY (II)
To turn from pages of this modern artTo fame's old pages that real life impart,
We seem as startled from unnatural dreams
To hear the summer voice of woods and streams,
And feel the sunny air, right green and young,
Breathe music round as though a siren sung;
And greet, as art's vain painted scenes are by,
The soul-stirred impulse of a living sky,
As in long droughts of summer's parchèd hours
Falls the refreshment of great rains and showers.
The birds resume their song, the leaves their green,
And brooks, that long dry as the land have been,
Brim-full of the sky's bounty gladly go,
Seeming to sing and wonder why they flow.
| The Poems of John Clare | |