Life and Remains of John Clare Part 14

Soft ripples the water, Flags rustle like laughter, And fish follow after; Leaves drop from the tree.

Nelly, Beauty's own daughter, Love, wander with me.

MARY BATEMAN

My love she wears a cotton plaid, A bonnet of the straw; Her cheeks are leaves of roses spread, Her lips are like the haw.

In truth she is as sweet a maid As true love ever saw.

Her curls are ever in my eyes, As nets by Cupid flung; Her voice will oft my sleep surprise, More sweet than ballad sung.

O Mary Bateman's curling hair!

I wake, and there is nothing there.

I wake, and fall asleep again, The same delights in visions rise; There's nothing can appear more plain Than those rose cheeks and those bright eyes.

I wake again, and all alone Sits Darkness on his ebon throne.

All silent runs the silver Trent, The cobweb veils are all wet through, A silver bead's on every bent, On every leaf a bleb of dew.

I sighed, the moon it shone so clear: Was Mary Bateman walking here?

WHEN SHALL WE MEET AGAIN?

How many times Spring blossoms meek Have faded on the land Since last I kissed that pretty cheek, Caressed that happy hand.

Eight time the green's been painted white With daisies in the gra.s.s Since I looked on thy eyes so bright, And pressed my bonny la.s.s.

The ground lark sung about the farms, The blackbird in the wood, When fast locked in each other's arms By hedgerow thorn we stood.

It was a pleasant Sabbath day, The sun shone bright and round, His light through dark oaks pa.s.sed, and lay Like gold upon the ground.

How beautiful the blackbird sung, And answered soft the thrush; And sweet the pearl-like dew-drops hung Upon the white thorn bush.

O happy day, eight years ago!

We parted without pain: The blackbird sings, primroses blow; When shall we meet again?

THE LOVER'S INVITATION

Now the wheat is in the ear, and the rose is on the brere, And bluecaps so divinely blue, with poppies of bright scarlet hue, Maiden, at the close o' eve, wilt thou, dear, thy cottage leave, And walk with one that loves thee?

When the even's tiny tears bead upon the gra.s.sy spears, And the spider's lace is wet with its pinhead blebs of dew, Wilt thou lay thy work aside and walk by brooklets dim descried, Where I delight to love thee?

While thy footfall lightly press'd tramples by the skylark's nest, And the c.o.c.kle's streaky eyes mark the snug place where it lies, Mary, put thy work away, and walk at dewy close o' day With me to kiss and love thee.

There's something in the time so sweet, when lovers in the evening meet, The air so still, the sky so mild, like slumbers of the cradled child, The moon looks over fields of love, among the ivy sleeps the dove: To see thee is to love thee.

NATURE'S DARLING

Sweet comes the morning In Nature's adorning, And bright s.h.i.+nes the dew on the buds of the thorn, Where Mary Ann rambles Through the sloe trees and brambles; She's sweeter than wild flowers that open at morn; She's a rose in the dew; She's pure and she's true; She's as gay as the poppy that grows in the corn.

Her eyes they are bright, Her bosom's snow white, And her voice is like songs of the birds in the grove.

She's handsome and bonny, And fairer than any, And her person and actions are Nature's and love.

She has the bloom of all roses, She's the breath of sweet posies, She's as pure as the brood in the nest of the dove.

Of Earth's fairest daughters, Voiced like falling waters, She walks down the meadows, than blossoms more fair.

O her bosom right fair is, And her rose cheek so rare is, And parted and lovely her glossy black hair.

Her bosom's soft whiteness!

The sun in its brightness Has never been seen so bewilderingly fair.

The dewy gra.s.s glitters, The house swallow twitters, And through the sky floats in its visions of bliss; The lark soars on high, On cowslips dews lie, And the last days of Summer are nothing like this.

When Mary Ann rambles Through hedgerows and brambles, The soft gales of Spring are the seasons of bliss.

I'LL DREAM UPON THE DAYS TO COME

I'll lay me down on the green sward, Mid yellowcups and speedwell blue, And pay the world no more regard, But be to Nature leal and true.

Who break the peace of hapless man But they who Truth and Nature wrong?

I'll hear no more of evil's plan, But live with Nature and her song.

Where Nature's lights and shades are green, Where Nature's place is strewn with flowers.

Where strife and care are never seen, There I'll retire to happy hours, And stretch my body on the green, And sleep among the flowers in bloom, By eyes of malice seldom seen, And dream upon the days to come.

I'll lay me by the forest green, I'll lay me on the pleasant gra.s.s; My life shall pa.s.s away unseen; I'll be no more the man I was.

The tawny bee upon the flower, The b.u.t.terfly upon the leaf, Like them I'll live my happy hour, A life of suns.h.i.+ne, bright and brief.

In greenwood hedges, close at hand, Build, brood, and sing the little birds, The happiest things in the green land, While sweetly feed the lowing herds, While softly bleat the roving sheep.

Upon the green gra.s.s will I lie, A Summer's day, to think and sleep.

Or see the clouds sail down the sky.

TO ISABEL

Arise, my Isabel, arise!

The sun shoots forth his early ray, The hue of love is in the skies, The birds are singing, come away!

O come, my Isabella, come, With inky tendrils hanging low; Thy cheeks like roses just in bloom, That in the healthy Summer glow.

That eye it turns the world away From wanton sport and recklessness; That eye beams with a cheerful ray, And smiles propitiously to bless.

O come, my Isabella, dear!

O come, and fill these longing arms!

Come, let me see thy beauty here, And bend in wors.h.i.+p o'er thy charms.