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To An Hour-Glass.

By John Clare

Topics: classic

Old-fashioned uncouth measurer of the day,     I love to watch thy filtering burthen pass;     Though some there are that live would bid thee stay;     But these view reasons through a different glass     From him, Time's meter, who addresses thee.     The world has joys which they may deem as such;     The world has wealth to season vanity,     And wealth is theirs to make their vainness much:     But small to do with joys and Fortune's fee     Hath he, Time's chronicler, who welcomes thee.     So jog thou on, through hours of doom'd distress;     So haste thou on the glimpse of hopes to come;     As every sand-grain counts a trouble less,     As every drain'd glass leaves me nearer home.

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"The Text is taken from Percy's Reliques (1765), vol. i. p. 71, 'given from two MS. copies, transmitted from Scotland.' Herd had a very similar bal"

John Clare

About 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 countryside with extraordinary precision and emotional honesty, and he is now recognized as one of the finest nature poets in the language.

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