by John Clare (1793-1864) ‘Tis evening; the black snail has got on his track, And gone to its nest is the wren, And the packman snail, too, with his home on his back, Clings to the bowed bents like a wen. The shepherd has made a rude mark with his foot Where his shadow reachedContinue reading “Evening”
Tag Archives: John Clare
Summer
by John Clare Come we to the summer, to the summer we will come, For the woods are full of bluebells and the hedges full of bloom, And the crow is on the oak a-building of her nest, And love is burning o in my true lover’s breast; She sits beneath the whitethorn a-plaiting ofContinue reading “Summer”
The Vixen
by John Clare Among the taller woods with ivy hung, The old fox plays and dances round her young. She snuffs and barks if any passes by And swings her tail and turns prepared to fly. The horseman hurries by, she bolts to see, And turns agen, from danger never free. If any stands sheContinue reading “The Vixen”
Robin's Nest 