John Clare
John Clare
John Clarewas an English poet, the son of a farm labourer, who came to be known for his celebratory representations of the English countryside and his lamentation of its disruption. His poetry underwent a major re-evaluation in the late 20th century, and he is now often considered to be among the most important 19th-century poets. His biographer Jonathan Bate states that Clare was "the greatest labouring-class poet that England has ever produced. No one has ever written more powerfully of...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth13 July 1793
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I long for scenes where man has never trod A place where woman never smiled or wept There to abide with my Creator God And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, Untroubling and untroubled where I lie The grass below, above, the vaulted sky.
I long for scenes where man has never trod;/ . . . There to abide with my Creator, God.
If life had a second edition, how I would correct the proofs.
I found the poems in the fields And only wrote them down
I ne'er was struck before that hour with love so sudden and so sweet. Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower and stole my heart away complete
I am gennerally understood tho I do not use that awkward squad of pointings called commas colons semicolons etc.
My fears are agitated to an extreme degree and the dread of death involves me in a stupor of chilling indisposition.
Old April wanes, and her last dewy morn Her death-bed steeps in tears; to hail the May New blooming blossoms neath the sun are born, And all poor April's charms are swept away.
Wildness is my suiting scene.
Ah, words are poor receipts for what time hath stole away...
When trouble haunts me, need I sigh?No, rather smile away despair
Forgive me if, in friendship’s way, I offer thee a wreath of May.... [N]ourished by the dews of heaven.... So I have Ivy placed between, To prove that worth is ever green. The little blue Forget-me-not... Spring’s messenger in every spot, Smiling on all—"Remember me!
Yet simple souls, their faith it knows no stint: Things least to be believed are most preferred. All counterfeits, as from truth's sacred mint, Are readily believed if once put down in print