For Nature is love, and finds haunts for true love, Where nothing can hear or intrude; It hides from the eagle and joins with the dove, In beautiful green solitude.
I ne'er was struck before that hour with love so sudden and so sweet. Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower and stole my heart away complete - John Clare
I ne'er was struck before that hour with love so sudden and so sweet. Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower and stole my heart away complete
- John Clare
I found the poems in the fields And only wrote them down - John Clare
I found the poems in the fields And only wrote them down
And what is Life? - An hour-glass on the run - John Clare
And what is Life? - An hour-glass on the run
I long for scenes where man has never trod;... There to abide with my Creator, God. - John Clare
I long for scenes where man has never trod;... There to abide with my Creator, God.
The best way to avoid a bad action is by doing a good one, for there is no difficulty in the world like that of trying to do nothing. - John Clare
The best way to avoid a bad action is by doing a good one, for there is no difficulty in the world like that of trying to do nothing.
Summer is a prodigal of joy. The grass Swarms with delighted insects as I pass, And crowds of grasshoppers at every stride Jump out all ways with hap… - John Clare
Summer is a prodigal of joy. The grass Swarms with delighted insects as I pass, And crowds of grasshoppers at every stride Jump out all ways with hap…
For Nature is love, and finds haunts for true love, Where nothing can hear or intrude; It hides from the eagle and joins with the dove, In beautiful … - John Clare
For Nature is love, and finds haunts for true love, Where nothing can hear or intrude; It hides from the eagle and joins with the dove, In beautiful …
I never saw so sweet a face. As that I stood before. My heart has left it dwelling place ... and can return no more. - John Clare
I never saw so sweet a face. As that I stood before. My heart has left it dwelling place ... and can return no more.
Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rude / And flew to the silence of sweet solitude. - John Clare
Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rude / And flew to the silence of sweet solitude.
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