John Clare's Prose And Poetry
 |
O'er the heart's every sense its opiate dews,
In meek-eyed moods and ever balmy trills!
That softens and subdues,
With gentle Quiet's bland and sober train,
Which dreamy eve renews In many a mellow strain!
I love to walk the fields, they are to me
A legacy no evil can destroy;
They, like a spell, set every rapture free
That cheer'd me when a boy.
Play--pastime--all Time's blotting pen conceal'd,
Comes like a new-born joy, To greet me in the field.
For Nature's objects ever harmonize
With emulous Taste, that vulgar deed annoys;
Which loves in pensive moods to sympathize,
And meet vibrating joys
O'er Nature's pleasing things; nor slighting, deems
Pastimes, the Muse employs, Vain and obtrusive themes.
Summer Images
( 1793 - 1864 )
Graphic Designs Are � By Missy's Mom
� 1997 - 1998 By Roland . All Rights Reserved .
Font Used Is Rockwell Italic .
Last Update : December 30, 1998
