Wildness is my suiting scene. John Clare More Quotes by John Clare More Quotes From John Clare 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 I hid my love when young till I John Clare flower memories lying Old April wanes, and her last dewy morn Her death-bed steeps in tears; to hail the May New blooming blossoms neath the sun are born, And all poor April's charms are swept away. John Clare blooming bed tears So dull and dark are the November days. The lazy mist high up the evening curled, And now the morn quite hides in smoke and haze; The place we occupy seems all the world. John Clare lazy dark world The wild swan hurries hight and noises loud John Clare swans white fall While snow the window-panes bedim, John Clare summer heart children My fears are agitated to an extreme degree and the dread of death involves me in a stupor of chilling indisposition. John Clare dread chill degrees Forgive me if, in friendship’s way, I offer thee a wreath of May.... [N]ourished by the dews of heaven.... So I have Ivy placed between, To prove that worth is ever green. The little blue Forget-me-not... Spring’s messenger in every spot, Smiling on all—"Remember me! John Clare ivy blue spring And what is Life? - An hour-glass on the run John Clare hours glasses running I lost the love of heaven above I spurned the lust of earth below I felt the sweets of fancied love And hell itself my only foe. John Clare lust sweet heaven Tasteful illumination of the night, Bright scattered, twinkling star of spangled earth. John Clare illumination stars night And fairy month of waking mirth John Clare flower spring joy Now summer is in flower and natures hum John Clare summer running sweet Loud is the summer's busy song John Clare summer song lying The snow has left the cottage top; John Clare eye spring children I am the self-consumer of my woes. John Clare consumers woe self I was Byron and Shakespeare formerly. John Clare byron I live here among the ignorant like a lost man in fact like one whom the rest seems careless of having anything to do with — they hardly dare talk in my company for fear I shoud mention them in my writings & I find more pleasure in wandering the fields then in mixing among my silent neighbours who are insensible of everything but toiling & talking of it & that to no purpose. John Clare writing talking men When trouble haunts me, need I sigh?No, rather smile away despair John Clare her-smile despair needs This world has suns, but they are overcast;This world has sweets, but they're of ling'ring bloom;Life still expects, and empty falls at last;Warm Hope on tiptoe drops into the tomb. John Clare sweet world fall
