John Clare

Old April wanes, and her last dewy morn
Her death-bed steeps in tears; to hail the May
read more

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.

If life had a second edition, how I would correct the proofs.

If life had a second edition, how I would correct the proofs.

Tasteful illumination of the night,
Bright scattered, twinkling star of spangled earth.

Tasteful illumination of the night,
Bright scattered, twinkling star of spangled earth.

Old noted oak! I saw thee in a mood
Of vague indifference; and yet with me
Thy read more

Old noted oak! I saw thee in a mood
Of vague indifference; and yet with me
Thy memory, like thy fate, hath lingering stood
For years, thou hermit, in the lonely sea
Of grass that waves around thee!

Loud is the summer's busy song
The smallest breeze can find a tongue,
While insects of each read more

Loud is the summer's busy song
The smallest breeze can find a tongue,
While insects of each tiny size
Grow teasing with their melodies,
Till noon burns with its blistering breath
Around, and day lies still as death.