Selected Poems Read Online

313 And where is the voice: the transcript reads: ‘& where is voice’.

p. 314 Hesperus: cf. Byron, Don Juan, Canto 4, stanza CVII.

p. 316 warm and erie: i.e. eerie in its first meaning, of fearful or timid.

p. 320 The objects seen: the MS reads ‘seem’, but the syntax and sense require ‘seen’.

p. 330 round the cote: the MS reads ‘coat’.

p. 334 Through this sad non-identity: identity is a recurring subject of Clare’s reflections. Here he recognizes that a secure sense of one’s own identity rests on being recognized by others, and that the breakdown of relationships can render one’s own sense of identity insecure. Cf. Mrs Gaskell: ‘A solitary life cherishes mere fancies until they become manias.’

p. 337 I’ll gaze upon thy bosom’s swell: the transcript offers ‘thy blossom’s well’; the feebleness of the image and of the adverb can serve to alert us to an act of bowdlerizing. I have taken the liberty of offering a conjectural restoration of Clare’s most probable words.

p. 341 And my love lives at the ‘White Hart’: Clare addressed some of his Northampton poems, like letters, to specific young women; in this case, Mary Ludgate, to whom he wrote a loving letter in code, addressing her as his ‘dear daughter’. She lived at the White Hart Inn, Cotton End, and had conceivably drawn a pint for him.

p. 351 She tied up herfewthings: Clare recalls an important part of the traditional agricultural year: young people went to hiring fairs or statutes, in search of employment. Here the girl has reached the term of her contract and is returning home, for a short break, before hiring herself out again.

p. 358 The Winter’s Come: the first line contains the only figure of speech that Clare derived from Northampton’s staple industry — the manufacture of boots and shoes. Clare would have read Dante in the translation by his friend, H. F. Cary: Clare wrote to Cary in October 1832, after Cary had offered him philosophical consolation following the move to Northborough. Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy enjoyed an enthusiastic revival in the early nineteenth century, largely owing to the advocacy of Charles Lamb.

These stanzas appear in a manuscript of 1850; Clare was still extending, albeit more sporadically, his ‘Prison Amusements’ sequence.

p. 361 ToJohnClare: this poem is dated 10 February 1860, and raises the question: to which John Clare? His son, John, was born 16 June 1826, and would be thirty-three, but Clare no longer reckoned the years.

the new number just laid down: chapmen-men who bought a stock of chapbooks, ballads, broadsides from provincial publishers — hawked them from village to village. One of Clare’s manuscripts was entitled ‘Halfpenny Ballads’. The stock-in-trade of the chapmen was a variety of traditional romances and truncated versions of popular novels. See Geoffrey Summerfield, Fantasy and Reason, Chapter 2, Methuen/Georgia University Press, 1985, and George Deacon, op. cit., pp. 34ff.

GLOSSARY

INDEX OF FIRST LINES

Accross the fallow clods at early morn

Ah sure it is a lovely day

Amidst the happiest joy a shade of grief

And in the maple bush there hides the style

And must we part that once so close

Beautiful Sorrow in thy silence thou

Black absence hides upon the past

Come dwell with me

Come early morning with thy mealy grey

Come luscious spring come with thy mossy roots

Darkness came o’er like chaos - and the sun

Darkness like midnight from the sobbing woods

Delicious is a leisure hour

Didknow where to meet thee

Dying gales of sweet even

Eliza now the summer tells

Fair maiden when my love began

Far spread the moorey ground alevel scene

First love will with the heart remain

Free from the cottage comer see how wild

From bank to bank the water roars Like thunder in a storm

Harken that happy shout — the school-house door

He could not die when trees were green

He loved the brook’s soft sound

Her cheeks are like roses

Here’s a health unto thee bonny lassie O

Here’s where Mary loved to be

Hesperus, the day is gone

How fresh the air, the birds how busy now

How oft a summer shower hath started me

How pleasant are the fields to roam and think

How silent comes this gentle wind

Hugh elm thy rifted trunk all notched and scarred

I am - yet whatam, none cares or knows;

I envy e’en the fly its gleams of joy

I feel I am, I only know I am

I hid my love when young while I 352

I long to think of thee in lonely midnight

I lost the love of heaven above

I love at eventide to walk alone

I love it well, o’ercanopied in leaves

I love the fitfull gust that shakes

I love the awthorn well

I love to see the old heath’s withered brake

I never pass a venerable tree

I peeled bits o’ straws andgot switches too

I saw her in my spring’s young choice

I seek her in the shady grove,

I sleep with thee and wake with thee

I think of thee at early day

I went in the fields with the leisure I got, 211

I wish I was where I would be

I wish I was where I would be

I’ll come to thee at eventide

In the cowslip’s peeps I lye

In this cold world without a home

In thy wild garb of other times

Infants’ graves are steps of angels where

It is the evening hour

I’ve left mine own old home of homes

I’ve loved thee Swordy Well and love thee still

I’ve wandered many a weary mile

Just by the wooden brig a bird flew up

Leaves from eternity are simple things

Let us go in the fields love and see the green tree

Little trotty wagtail he went in the rain

Love is a secret

Love lies beyond

Lovely Mary when we parted

Lover of swamps

Maid of Walkherd, meet again

Many are May time is to the meadows coming in

Many are poets — though they use no pen

Midsummer’s breath gives ripeness to the year

Musing beside the crackling fire at night

My old lover left me I knew not for why

No single hour can stand for nought

Now comes the bonny May dancing and skipping

Now evening comes and from the new-laid hedge

Now is past, the happy now

Now swathy summer by rude health embrowned

O cold is the winter day And iron is the ground

O’ come to my arms i‘ the cool o’ the day

O dear to us ever the scenes of our childhood

O for a pleasant book to cheat the sway

O Lord God Almighty How Usefull Art Thou

O Mary dear, three springs have been

O Mary sing thy songs to me

O Mary thou that once made all

O poesy is on the wane

O poesy’s power, thou overpowering sweet

O sigh no more, love, sigh no more

O wert thou in the storm

Old elm that murmured in our chimney top

Old January clad in crispy rime

Old stone pits with veined ivy overhung

Old tree, oblivion doth thy life condemn

On Lolham Brigs in wild and lonely mood

On the rude heath yclad in furze and ling

Pale sunbeams gleam

Petitioners are full of prayers

‘Poets are born’ — and so are whores — the trade is

Poets love nature and themselves are love

Pleased in his loneliness he often lies

Remember dear Mary love cannot deceive

Roaming the little path ‘neath dotterel trees

Sauntering at ease I often love to lean

Say What Is Love - To Live In Vain

She tied up her few things

Spring comes anew and brings each little pledge

Spring cometh in with all her hues and smells

Summer morning is risen

Summer’s pleasures they are gone like to visions every one

Sweet days while God your blessings send

Sweet little minstrel of the sunny summer

Sweet twilight nurse of dews

Sweet chesnuts brown like soleing-leather turn

That summer bird its oft-repeated note

The apple-top’t oak in the old narrow lane

The autumn morning waked by many a gun

The Autumn wind on suthering wings

The badger grunting on his woodland track

The bird cherry’s white in the dews o’ the morning

The birds are gone to bed the cows are still

The Blackbird Has Built In The Pasture Agen

The crib-stock fothered, horses suppered-up

The crow will tumble up and down

The Crow sat on the willow tree

The daisy-button tipped wi’ dew Green like the grass was sleeping

The evening gathers from the gloomy woods

The evening is for love As the morning is for toil

The evening o’er the meadow seems to stoop

The flag-top quivers in the breeze

The floods come o’er the meadow leas

The fly or beetle on their track

The foddering boy along the crumping snows

The frog half-fearful jumps accross the path

The frolicksome wind through the trees and the bushes

The girllove is flesh and blood

The hazel blooms, in the threads of crimson hue

The heaven’s are wrath - the thunder’s rattling peal

The hedgehog hides beneath the rotten hedge

The Larks in the sky love

The martin-cat long-shagged of courage good

The morning comes — the drops of dew

The one delicious green that now prevades

The past it is a majic word

The rawk o’ the Autumn hangs over the woodlands

The rich brown umber hue the oaks unfold

The rolls and harrows lie at rest beside

The Rose Of The World Was Dear Mary To Me

The ruin of a ruin - man of mirth

The rural occupations of the year

The shepherd on his journey heard when nigh

The shepherds and the herding swains

The shepherd’s hut propt by the double ash

The sinken sun is takin’ leave

The skylark mounts up with the mom

The snow falls deep; the Forest lies alone:

The South-west wind, how pleasant in the face

The spring is come forth but no spring is for me

The spring may forget that he reigns in the sky

The spring returns, the pewet screams

The stepping-stones that stride the meadow streams

The summer she is gone her book is shut

The sun has gone down with a veil on her brow

The sun had grown on lessening day

The sun had stooped his westward clouds to win

The sun looks downin such a mellow light

The sunshine bathes in clouds of many hues

The sweet spring now is coming

The tame hedge-sparrow in its russet dress

The thistledown’s flying Though the winds are all still

The weary woodman rocking home beneath

The wind waves o’er the meadows green

The wood-anemonie through dead oak-leaves

The woodland swamps with mosses varified

There is a day a dreadfull day

There is a feeling nought can calm

There is a wild and beautiful neglect

There lies a sultry lusciousness around

There’s a little odd house by the side of the Lane

There’s more then music in this early wind

There’s pleasure on the pasture lea

These childem of the sun which summer brings

They ne’er read the heart

This visionary theme is thine

Thou’rt dearest to my bosom

Thou hermit haunter of the lonely glen

Thou tiney loiterer on the barley’s beard

’Tis autumn now and nature’s scenes

’Tis evening, the black snail has got on his track

’Tis haytime and the red-complexioned sun

‘Tis spring thy love ’tis spring

’Tis winter plain the images around

True poesy is not in words

Twilight meek nurse of dews

Up this green woodland ride let’s softly rove

Upon the collar of a hugh old oak

We never know the sweets o’ joy

Wearied with his lonely walk

Welcome sweet eve thy gently sloping sky

Well, honest John, how far you now at home?

Well, in my many walks I rarely found

What a night the wind howls hisses and but stops

What is song’s eternity?

What time the wheat field tinges rusty brown

When life’s tempests blow high

Where is the heart thou once hast won

Where last year’s leaves and weeds decay

Where the ash-tree weaves

Who hath not felt the influence that so calms

Why is the cuckoo’s melody preferred

Wilt thou go with me sweet maid

Wing-winnowing lark with speckled breast

Winter is come in earnest and the snow

Woman had we never met

Would’st thou but know where Nature clings

Youth has no fear ofby no cloudy days annoyed

INDEX OF TITLES

And Must We Part?

And only o’er the heaths to ramble ...

Autumn: I love the fitfull gusts ...

Autumn Morning

Autumn: The thistledown’s flying ...

Autumn Wind, The

Badger, The

Ballad: Fair maiden ...

Ballad - Fragment: O Lord God Almighty

Ballad: O sigh no more, love ...

Ballad: The spring returns ...

Ballad: Where is the heart ...

Beans in Blossom

Bird’s Nests

Childhood

Childhood: O dear to us ever the scenes of our childhood ...

Clock-a-Clay

Cottage Fears

Crab Tree, The

Crow Sat on the Willow, The

Crows in Spring

daisy-button tipp’d wi’ dew ... , The

Decay

Decay

Dedication to Mary

Dying Child, The

Early Images

Emmonsales Heath

Emmonsails Heath in Winter

Eternity of Nature, The

evening is for love ... , The

Evening Pastime

Evening Schoolboys

Evening: ’Tis evening, the black snail has got on his track ...

Fallen Elm, The

Fern Owl’s Nest, The

Flood, The

Field-Cricket

First Love’s Recollections

First Sight of Spring

Flitting, The

Flowers shall hang upon the palls

Foddering Boy, The

Fox, The

Frightened Ploughman, The

Gipsy Camp, The

Graves of Infants

Hail Storm in June, The

Happiness of Evening

Hares at Play

Haymaking

Heat of Noon, The

Hedgehog, The

Hedge-Sparrow

Her Love is All to Me

Hesperus

Hollow Tree, The

Home Pictures in May

How hot the sun rushes ...

Humble Bee, The

I Am

I look on the past and I dread the tomorrow

I love thee nature with a boundless love ...

I’ve ran the furlongs to thy door ...

Idle Hour, An

Insects

Invitation, The

Invite to Eternity, An

Lament of Swordy Well, The

Left in the world alone ...

Little Trotty Wagtail

Lord hear my prayer when trouble glooms

Love: Love is a secret ...

Maid of Walkherd, meet again ...

Martin, The

Mary: A Ballad: The skylark mounts up ...

Mary: it is the evening hour...

Meadow Grass, The

Midsummer

Milking Hour, The

Mist in the Meadows

Moorhen’s Nest, The

Mores, The

Morning

Morning Walk, A

Morning Wind, The

Nigh Leopard’s Hill stand All-n’s hells ...

Night Wind

Nightingale’s Nest, The

Nothingness of Life

Now is Past

Nutters

Nutting

O’ Come to My Arms

O could I be as I have been ...

Obscurity

Old Man’s Song, The

Pastoral Poesy

Peasant Poet, The

Pettichap’s Nest, The

Pewit’s Nest, The

Pleasant Places

Pleasant Spots

Poesy a-Maying

Prison Amusements, or Child Harold

Ballad

Song

Song

Song

Written in a Thunderstorm July 15th 1841

Song

Song

Ballad

Song

Song

Song

Song

Song

Song

Song

Song

Song

Song

Song

Song

Song

Song

Ballad

Ballad

Song

Part of Prison Amusements, or Child Harold, continued

Temple of Minerva

Song

Spring

Last Day

Song

Song

Song

Song

To Sorrow

Song

To Awthorn

Song

Song

Spring

Twilight

Song

Song

March Violet

Raven’s Nest, The

Rawk o’ the Autumn, The

Remember dear Mary

Remembrances

Robin’s Nest, The

Round Oak, The

Part of The Sale of Old Wigs and Sundries, or Don Juan

Song

Sand Martin

Shepherd Boy, The

Shepherd Boy, The

Shepherd’s Fire, The

Shepherd’s Hut, The

Shepherd’s Tree, The

Signs of Winter

Sky Lark, The

Snow Storm

Snow Storm

Sonnet: The flag-top quivers in the breeze ...

Song: The girllove is flesh and blood ...

Song: How silent comes this gentle wind ...

Song: I hid my love when young...

Song: I’ll come to thee at eventide ...

Song: I peeled bits o’ straws ...

Song: I seek her in the shady grove ...

Song: I wish I was where I would be ...

Song: Love lives beyond ...

Song: My old lover left me ...

Song: O wert thou in the storm

Song: She tied up her few things ...

Song: Where the ash-tree weaves ...

Song: The wind waves o’er the meadows green ...

Song’s Eternity

Sonnet: I feel I am ...

Sonnet: Poets love nature ...

Sport in the Meadows

Spring comes and it is May ...

Spring Morning, A

Stanzas: Black absence hides upon the past ...

Stanzas: The spring is come forth ...

Stanzas: Would’st thou but know ...

Stepping-Stones

Stray Walks

Summer Evening

Summer Evening

Summer Gone, The

Summer Happiness

Summer Images

Summer Moods

Summer Shower, The

Sunday with Shepherds and Herdboys, A

Sunset

Sweetest Woman There, The

Swordy Well

The Enthusiast: A Daydream in Summer

’Tis Martinmass from rig to rig ...

To John Clare

To a Lark singing in Winter

To Mary: I sleep with thee and wake with thee ...

To the Snipe

Twilight

Valentine to Mary

Village Boy, The

Vision, A

Wheat Ripening, The

Wild Bees

Wind, The

Winter

Winter Evening

Winter Fields

Winter’s Come, The

Woman Had We Never Met

Wood Pictures in Spring

Wood Pictures in Summer

Wood Pictures in Winter

Wood Rides

Wood-Anemonie

Woodman, The

Woodpigeon’s Nest, The

Wren, The

Written in Prison

Wryneck’s Nest, The

Yellowhammer’s Nest, The