John Clare Poems

Dear brother robin this comes from us all
With our kind love and could Gip write and all
Though but a dog he'd have his love to spare
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The Spring is come, and Spring flowers coming too,
The crocus, patty kay, the rich hearts' ease;
The polyanthus peeps with blebs of dew,
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What is there in those distant hills
My fancy longs to see,
That many a mood of joy instils?
Say what can fancy be?
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He loved the brook's soft sound,
The swallow swimming by.
He loved the daisy-covered ground,
The cloud-bedappled sky.
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The world is taking little heed
And plods from day to day:
The vulgar flourish like a weed,
The learned pass away.
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Where slanting banks are always with the sun
The daisy is in blossom even now;
And where warm patches by the hedges run
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March month of 'many weathers' wildly comes
In hail and snow and rain and threatning hums
And floods: while often at his cottage door
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These children of the sun which summer brings
As pastoral minstrels in her merry train
Pipe rustic ballads upon busy wings
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Little trotty wagtail he went in the rain,
And tittering, tottering sideways he neer got straight again,
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I

In politics and politicians' lies
The modern farmer waxes wondrous wise;
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