John Clare
John Clare (1793–1864) was an English poet known as the "peasant poet" for his humble origins. His nature poetry—including "I Am" and "Badger"—captures the English count…
"How fond the rustic's ear at leisure dwells On the soft soundings of his village bells, As on a Sunday morning at his ease He takes"
"Who loves the white-thorn tree, And the river running free? There a maiden stood with me In Summer weather. Near a cottag"
"Darkness like midnight from the sobbing woods Clamours with dismal tidings of the rain, Roaring as rivers breaking loose in floods"
"Young Chloe looks sweet as the rose, And her love might be reckoned no less, But her bosom so freely bestows That a"
"Come queen of months in company Wi all thy merry minstrelsy The restless cuckoo absent long And twittering swallows chimney song"
"O for that sweet, untroubled rest That poets oft have sung!-- The babe upon its mother's breast, The bird upon its young, The"
"How sweet to be thus nestling deep in boughs, Upon an ashen stoven pillowing me; Faintly are heard the ploughmen at their ploughs,"
"Life, thou art misery, or as such to me; One name serves both, or I no difference see; Tho' some there live would call thee heaven below"
"I saw her crop a rose Right early in the day, And I went to kiss the place Where she broke the rose away And I saw the patten"
"The red east glows, the dewy cheek of Day Has not yet met the sun's o'erpowering smile; The dew-drops in their beauty still are gay,"
"The cat runs races with her tail. The dog Leaps oer the orchard hedge and knarls the grass. The swine run round and grunt and play with"
"Pretty swallow, once again Come and pass me in the rain. Pretty swallow, why so shy? Pass again my window by. The horsepond w"
"This world has suns, but they are overcast; This world has sweets, but they're of ling'ring bloom; Life still expects, and empty falls a"
"Autumn, I love thy parting look to view In cold November's day, so bleak and bare, When, thy life's dwindled thread worn nearly thro',"
"Swamps of wild rush-beds, and sloughs' squashy traces, Grounds of rough fallows with thistle and weed, Flats and low vallies of kingcups"
"Thou Winter, thou art keen, intensely keen; Thy cutting frowns experience bids me know, For in thy weather days and days I've been,"
"She hastens out and scarcely pins her clothes To hear the news and tell the news she knows; She talks of sluts, marks each unmended gown"
"Home furthest off grows dearer from the way; And when the army in the Indias lay Friends' letters coming from his native place Were"
"What trifles touch our feelings, when we view The simple scenes of Childhood's early day, Pausing on spots where gather'd blossoms grew,"
"I've left my own old home of homes, Green fields and every pleasant place; The summer like a stranger comes, I pause and hardly kno"
"The lark's in the sky, love, The flowers on the lea, The whitethorn's in bloom, love, To please thee and me; 'Neath its s"
"How many times Spring blossoms meek Have faded on the land Since last I kissed that pretty cheek, Caressed that happy hand."
"Now swarthy summer, by rude health embrowned, Precedence takes of rosy fingered spring; And laughing joy, with wild flowers pranked and"
"Why should man's high aspiring mind Burn in him with so proud a breath, When all his haughty views can find In this"
"The passing traveller with wonder sees A deep and ancient stonepit full of trees; So deep and very deep the place has been, The chu"
"The morning opens fine, bonny Mary O! The robin sings his song by the dairy O! Where the little Jenny wrens cock their tails among the h"
"There's a bonny place in Scotland, Where a little spring is found; There Nature shows her honest face The whole year round."
"Bird of the morn, When roseate clouds begin To show the opening dawn Thou gladly sing'st it in, And o'er the sweet green"
"O simple Nature, how I do delight To pause upon thy trifles--foolish things, As some would call them.--On the summer night, Tracing"
""Ah, where can he linger?" said Doll, with a sigh, As bearing her milk-burthen home: "Since he's broken his vow, near an hour has gone b"
"The rosy day was sweet and young, The clod-brown lark that hail'd the morn Had just her summer anthem sung, And trembling dropped i"
"O once I loved a pretty girl, and dearly love her still; I courted her in happiness for two short years or more. And when I think of"
"Among the green bushes the songs of the thrushes Are answering each other in music and glee, While the magpies and rooks, in woods, h"
"The sun now sinks behind the woodland green, And twittering spangles glow the leaves between; So bright and dazzling on the eye it plays"
"Bonny and stout and brown, without a hat, She frowns offended when they call her fat-- Yet fat she is, the merriest in the place, A"
"O Poesy is on the wane, For Fancy's visions all unfitting; I hardly know her face again, Nature herself seems on the flitting."
"Three times, sweet hawthorn! I have met thy bower, And thou hast gain'd my love, and I do feel An aching pain to leave thee: every flowe"
"The holly bush, a sober lump of green, Shines through the leafless shrubs all brown and grey, And smiles at winter be it eer so keen"
"Ah, little did I think in time that's past, By summer burnt, or numb'd by winter's blast, Delving the ditch a livelihood to earn, O"
"What is song's eternity? Come and see. Can it noise and bustle be? Come and see. Praises sung or praises said Can it be?"
"I I met thee like the morning, though more fair, And hopes 'gan travel for a glorious day; And though night met them ere they were"
"Simple enchantress! wreath'd in summer blooms Of slender bent-stalks topt with feathery down, Heath's creeping vetch, and glaring yellow"
"The mid-day hour of twelve the clock counts o'er, A sultry stillness lulls the air asleep; The very buzz of flies is heard no more,"
"Thou lowly cot, where first my breath I drew, Past joys endear thee, childhood's past delight; Where each young summer's pictur'd on my"
"He plays with other boys when work is done, But feels too clumsy and too stiff to run, Yet where there's mischief he can find a way"
"Maids shout to breakfast in a merry strife, And the cat runs to hear the whetted knife, And dogs are ever in the way to watch The m"
"Farewell to the bushy clump close to the river And the flags where the butter-bump hides in for ever; Farewell to the weedy nook, hemmed"
"The shepherd on his journey heard when nigh His dog among the bushes barking high; The ploughman ran and gave a hearty shout, He fo"
"Left in the world alone, Where nothing seems my own, And everything is weariness to me, 'T is a life without an end, 'T i"
"And what is Life?--An hour-glass on the run, A mist retreating from the morning sun, A busy, bustling, still repeated dream; Its le"
"How pleasing simplest recollections seem! Now summer comes, it warms me to look back On the sweet happiness of youth's wild track,"
"Now happy swains review the plains, And hail the first of May; Now linnets sing to welcome spring, And every soul is gay. Hob"
"Sweet is the violet, th' scented pea, Haunted by red-legged, sable bee, But sweeter far than all to me Is she I love so dearly;"
"I hate the very noise of troublous man Who did and does me all the harm he can. Free from the world I would a prisoner be And my ow"
"Love and thy vain employs, away From this too oft deluded breast! No longer will I court thy stay, To be my bosom's teazing guest."
"---------Taste is from heaven, An inspiration nature can't bestow; Though nature's beauties, where a taste is given, Warm the ideas"
"Soon as the twilight through the distant mist In silver hemmings skirts the purple east, Ere yet the sun unveils his smiles to view"
"Agen I'll take my idle pen And sing my bonny mountain maid-- Sweet Phoebe of the Scottish glen, Nor of her censure feel afraid."
"Why are ye silent, Birds? Where do ye fly? Winter's not violent, With such a Spring sky. The wheatlands are green, snow a"
"I'll lay me down on the green sward, Mid yellowcups and speedwell blue, And pay the world no more regard, But be to Nature leal"