The Shepherds Calendar – July (John Clare Poems)
Daughter of pastoral smells and sightsAnd sultry days and dewy nightsJuly resumes her yearly placeWi her milking maiden faceRuddy and ...
Daughter of pastoral smells and sightsAnd sultry days and dewy nightsJuly resumes her yearly placeWi her milking maiden faceRuddy and ...
The fog peers in the windows, passes 'neath the lampsSettles in the doorways and huddles from the dampSlips inside the ...
"Oh, dear with best thighs, heart-stealing is this environ with abundantly grown stacks of rice and their cobs, or with ...
THE moon at midnight quenched her vaporous light,Leaving the stars but faintly brightLike tapers that burn ill;And in the fragrant ...
I. In South AfricaOver the lonesome African plainThe stars look down, like eyes of the slain.A bumping ride across gullies ...
They have taken the cold, red canvas to set it in history;They have left the body of Malmgren adrift on ...
Your late kind Gift let me restore;For I must never wear it more.My Mother cries, ``What's here to do?``A Crimson ...
Us two in the room; my dog and me…. Outside a fearful storm is howling.The dog sits in front of ...
Hushed are the pigeons cooing low On dusty rafters of the loft; And mild-eyed oxen, breathing soft,Sleep on the fragrant hay below.Dim ...
Wind blows. Snow falls. The great clock in its towerTicks with reverberant coil and tolls the hour:At the deep sudden ...
XXVThe leaden eyelids of wan twilight close Upon the sun; and now the misty dew Trails its wet skirts across ...
Now leafy winds are blowing cold,And South by West the sun goes down,A quiet huddles up the foldIn sheltered corners ...
Where are the passions they essayed, And where the tears they made to flow? Where the wild humours they portrayed ...
Wind blows. Snow falls. The great clock in its tower Ticks with reverberant coil and tolls the hour: At the ...
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound ...
THE owl-car clatters along, dogged by the echo From building and battered paving-stone. The headlight scoffs at the mist, And ...
Between me and the sunset, like a dome Against the glory of a world on fire, Now burned a sudden ...
In the South lies a lonesome, hungry Land; He huddles his rags with a cripple's hand; He mutters, prone on ...
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