by John Clare


I love the fitfull gusts that shakes
?The casement all the day
And from the mossy elm tree takes
?The faded leaf away
Twirling it by the window-pane
With thousand others down the lane

I love to see the shaking twig
?Dance till the shut of eve
The sparrow on the cottage rig
?Whose chirp would make believe
That spring was just now flirting by
In summers lap with flowers to lie

I love to see the cottage smoke
?Curl upwards through the naked trees
The pigeons nestled round the coat
?On dull November days like these
The cock upon the dung-hill crowing
The mill sails on the heath a-going

The feather from the ravens breast
?Falls on the stubble lea
The acorns near the old crows nest
?Fall pattering down the tree
The grunting pigs that wait for all
Scramble and hurry where they fall

Last updated August 11, 2022