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 happiness their guide; And from my brushing feet moths flit away In safer places to pursue their play. In crowds they start. I marvel, well I may, To see such worlds of insects in the way, And more to see each thing, however small, Sharing joy's bounty that belongs to all. And here I gather, by the world forgot, Harvests of comfort from their happy mood, Feeling God's blessing dwells in every spot And nothing lives but owes him gratitude.
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…
- 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
Love lives with Nature, not with lust. Go find her in the flowers. - John Clare
Love lives with Nature, not with lust. Go find her in the flowers.
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.
The present is the funeral of the past, And man the living sepulchre of life. - John Clare
The present is the funeral of the past, And man the living sepulchre of life.
Language has not the power to speak what love indites: The soul lies buried in the ink that writes. - John Clare
Language has not the power to speak what love indites: The soul lies buried in the ink that writes.
And what is Life? - An hour-glass on the run - John Clare
And what is Life? - An hour-glass on the run
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 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.
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