The present is the funeral of the past, And man the living sepulchre of life. John Clare More Quotes by John Clare More Quotes From John Clare If life had a second edition, how I would correct the proofs. John Clare proof ifs Language has not the power to John Clare soul writing lying Love lives with Nature, not with lust. Go find her in the flowers. John Clare love-life flower lust I found the poems in the fields And only wrote them down John Clare fields found The best way to avoid a bad action is by doing a good one, for there is no difficulty in the world like that of trying to do nothing. John Clare trying way world 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 John Clare flower sweet romantic Burning hot is the ground, liquid gold is the air; Whoever looks round sees Eternity there. John Clare gold air hot For Nature is love, and finds haunts for true love, Where nothing can hear or intrude; It hides from the eagle and joins with the dove, In beautiful green solitude. John Clare eagles nature beautiful Summer is a prodigal of joy. The grass Swarms with delighted insects as I pass, And crowds of grasshoppers at every stride Jump out all ways with happiness their guide; And from my brushing feet moths flit away In safer places to pursue their play. In crowds they start. I marvel, well I may, To see such worlds of insects in the way, And more to see each thing, however small, Sharing joy's bounty that belongs to all. And here I gather, by the world forgot, Harvests of comfort from their happy mood, Feeling God's blessing dwells in every spot And nothing lives but owes him gratitude. John Clare gratitude blessing summer Still, I have been no one's enemy but my own. My easy nature, either in drinking or anything else, was always ready to submit to persuasions of profligate companions, who often led me into snares. John Clare persuasion drinking enemy I long for scenes where man has never trod;... There to abide with my Creator, God. John Clare creator-god men long I never saw so sweet a face. As that I stood before. My heart has left it dwelling place ... and can return no more. John Clare heart sweet love I am gennerally understood tho I do not use that awkward squad of pointings called commas colons semicolons etc. John Clare awkward squad use Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rude / And flew to the silence of sweet solitude. John Clare rude silence sweet Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life or joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems; And e'en the dearest--that I love the best-- Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest. John Clare sea dream joy The thorn tree just began to bud John Clare lonely blue spring Now musing o'er the changing scene Farmers behind the tavern screen Collect; with elbows idly press'd On hob, reclines the corner's guest, Reading the news to mark again The bankrupt lists or price of grain. Puffing the while his red-tipt pipe He dreams o'er troubles nearly ripe, Yet, winter's leisure to regale, Hopes better times, and sips his ale. John Clare reading dream winter I am: yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost; I am the self-consumer of my woes, They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost; And yet I am, and live with shadows tost. John Clare shadow self memories He could not die when the trees were green, For he loved the time too well. John Clare green time tree I long for scenes where man has never trod; A place where woman never smil'd 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. John Clare sleep men lying
