The wild journey


He hears the wild geese gabble oer his head
& pleasd wi fancys in his musings bred
He marks the figurd forms in which they flye
& pausing follows wi a wondering eye
Likening their curious march in curves or rows
To every letter which his memory knows
While far above the solitary crane
Swings lonly to unfrozen dykes again
Cranking a jarring mellancholy cry
Thro the wild journey of the cheerless sky

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Image of Cranes by my friend #CarryAkroyd

Wildest dress


Spirit of the woods awake
In thy wildest dress appear
Trace with me the curdled brake
Sound thy wildness in my ear
Genius of the woods that dwells
Sweeping boughs & grains among
As I climb thy rough rude dells
Breath thy roughness in my song

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The book I love


A photo I took in the archive in November 2012... and this of another unpublished Clare manuscript.  It is an honour to be able to go and study these texts -- and seek to decipher Clare's handwriting!


The book I love is everywhere,
And every place the same;
God bade me make my dwelling there,
And look for better fame.
I never feared the critic's pen,
To live by my renown;
I found the poems in the fields,
And only wrote them down.


(from "Sighing for Retirement)
(lines 9 to 16)

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Smoothing green


On that side view the meads their smoothing green
Edg'd with the peeping hamlets checkering brown
Here the steep hill as dripping headlong down
While glides the stream a silver streak between
As glides the shaded clouds along the sky
Brightning & deep'ning loosing as they're seen
In light & shade—so when old willows lean
Thus their broad shadow—runs the river bye
With tree & bush repleat a wilderd scene
& mossd & Ivyd sparkling on my eye—
O thus wild musing am I doubly blest
My woes unheeding—& my heart at rest

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Image by my gifted friend #CarryAkroyd


The winding footpath


Wereover many a stile neeth willows grey
The winding footpath leaves the public way
Free from the dusty din & ceasless chime
Of bustling waggons in the summer time
Crossing a brook—were braving storms in vain
Two willows fell & still for brigs remain
Corn field & clover closes leading down
In peacful windings to the neighbouring town

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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd

The droning bee


The droning bee has wakened up
& humming round the buttercup
& round the bright star daisy hums
O'er every blade of grass he passes
The dewdrop shines like looking glasses
In every drop a bright sun comes
'Tis march & spring bright days we see
Round every blossom hums the bee

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The Early Daisy


With all the pleasant things
That come with spring
What time the mavis builds & sings
            I love the daisy well
Ere hedges throw a sprout
Of greenness out
They peep and shine about

& care not where they dwell


Beside the garden pales
Their silver bloom prevails
& glads the childrens tales

While sitting there at play
In the grass they come & crowd
Wherever weeds allowed
A footing they are proud

In glad springs early day


Sallows that by the little pond recline
& sweetly shine
In tasselled gold seem not so sweet as thine

Low blooming at their foot

Ive thought so when a boy
In plays employ
Racing the lambs in joy

& resting at its root

 

The blackthorns like a sheet
& faintly sweet
Pale March in hedges meet

Like snows in bloom
But daisies came before
On green and moor
& ere snowstorms were oer

I saw them come


The mind will dream and cling
To pleasant things
That come again with spring

As when health used to go
Down little paths & spy
Cowslips so nigh
That as we wandered by

Would pat agen the shoe


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Image by my friend #TonyGale