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.
John ClareRead
I hid my love when young till I_x000D_ Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly;_x000D_ I hid my life to my despite_x000D_ Till I could not bear to look at light:_x000D_ I dare not gaze upon her face_x000D_ But left her memory in each place;_x000D_ Where'er I saw a wild flower lie_x000D_ I kissed and bade my love good-bye.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote reflects the pain of unexpressed love and the longing associated with it.
In this poignant quote, John Clare expresses the deep sorrow and regret of hiding his love throughout his youth. The imagery of hiding not just love, but life itself, illustrates the weight of unfulfilled emotions, culminating in a bitter farewell to love as he finds solace in memories associated with nature, represented by wildflowers.
Themes
LoveRegretMemoryNatureHeartbreak
In practice
Example use cases
This quote can be used during a poetry reading event to highlight themes of hidden emotions.
More from John Clare
All quotes βBurning hot is the ground, liquid gold is the air; Whoever looks round sees Eternity there.
John ClareRead
Loud is the summer's busy song_x000D_ _x000D_ The smallest breeze can find a tongue,_x000D_ _x000D_ While insects of each tiny size_x000D_ _x000D_ Grow teasing with their melodies,_x000D_ _x000D_ Till noon burns with its blistering breath_x000D_ _x000D_ Around, and day lies still as death.
John ClareRead
I long for scenes where man has never trod; A place where woman never smil'd or wept; There to abide with my creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept: Untroubling and untroubled where I lie; The grass below--above the vaulted sky.
John ClareRead
I found the poems in the fields And only wrote them down
John ClareRead
Ah, words are poor receipts for what time hath stole away.
John ClareRead
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Love is a kind of dementia with very precise and oft-repeated clinical symptoms. You blush in each other's presence, you both hover in places where you expect the other to pass, you are both a little tongue-tied, you both laugh inexplicably and too long, you become quite nauseatingly girlish, and he becomes quite ridiculously gallant. You have also grown a little stupid.
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The love that you withhold is the pain that you carry.
Ralph Waldo EmersonRead
The fullness of our heart is expressed in our eyes, in our touch, in what we write, in what we say, in the way we walk, the way we receive, the way we serve.
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