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 ...
I.But now the second Morning, from her bow'r,Began to glister in her beams, and nowThe roses of the day began ...
IBut now the second Morning, from her bow'r,Began to glister in her beams, and nowThe roses of the day began ...
It sat between my husband and my children.A place was set for it-a plate of greens.It had been there: I ...
This life is a hospital where every patient is possessed with the desire to change beds; one man would like ...
Severn has kilns set all along her banksWhere the thin reeds grow and rushes in ranks;And the carts tip rubbish ...
I shall gladly suffer the pride of culture to die out in my house,if only in some happy future I ...
As loitering in the meadows, where dandelions grow,And where my grandsire grazes his crumple-horned cow;I saw five airy hoidens, and ...
Death, in a bull's pelt,full of the holes and horns of its ownundoing, grazes and tramplesa bullfighter's luminous field.Volcanic roaring, ...
Francesca.Crush'd and throng'd are all the places In our amphitheatre,'Midst a sea of swarming faces I can yet distinguish her;Dost ...
Sleep, Venice, sleep! the evening gun resounds Over the waves that rock thee on their breast; The bugle ...
WHO heeds thee, poor flower? No fragrance is thine, No sunbeam has dress'd thee with hues of delight,Thou hast ...
An ancient ape, once on a time,Disliked exceedingly to climb, And so he picked him out a treeAnd said, "now ...
SAY, lordly Man, of pow'rs possest,That no inferior creatures know;Say, can the mind with reason blest,Relentless fury show.To thy domain ...
"IWe went walking in the morning just before the sun was rising.Sad the orchard, sad our thoughts were, sad too ...
"The crimson fires of our lives fading,we lift the festival wreaths from our browswith their unkempt leaves and fallen petals,and ...
The sky in the trees, the trees mixed up with what's left of heaven, nearby a patch of daffodils rooted ...
I shall gladly suffer the pride of culture to die out in my house, if only in some happy future ...
Out where the grey streams glide, Sullen and deep and slow, And the alligators slide From the mud to the ...
Pitch here the tent, while the old horse grazes: By the old hedge-side we'll halt a stage. It's nigh my ...
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