Friday Poetry: John Clare

Happy Friday!

I am really not happy with the lack of sunshine we have been having and I long for some proper Summer weather. Due to this I have chosen a poem named Summer.

This poem is by John Clare (1793-1864) who was an English poet who celebrated the English countryside in his poetry.

Summer

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 diamonds in my true lover's breast;
She sits beneath the whitethorn a-plaiting of her hair,
And I will to my true lover with a fond request repair;
I will look upon her face, I will in her beauty rest,
And lay my aching weariness upon her lovely breast.

The clock-a-clay is creeping on the open bloom of May, 
The merry bee is trampling the pinky threads all day,
And the chaffinch it is brooding on its grey mossy nest
In the whitethorn bush where I will lean upon my lover's
breast;
I'll lean upon her breast and I'll whisper in her ear
That I cannot get a wink o'sleep for thinking of my dear;
I hunger at my meat and I daily fade away
Like the hedge rose that is broken in the heat of the day. 

John Clare