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John Clare

The Old Year

5 January 2010
Vol. 7, No. 4
poetry, classic, rhyme

Old papers thrown away,

      Old garments cast aside,

The talk of yesterday,

      Are things identified;

But time once torn away

      No voices can recall:

The eve of New Year's Day

      Left the Old Year lost to all.

The Badger

They get a forked stick to bear him down

And clap the dogs and take him to the town,

And bait him all the day with many dogs,

And laugh and shout and fright the scampering hogs.

He runs along and bites at all he meets:

They shout and hollo down the noisy streets.


28 August 2007
Vol. 7, No. 2
poetry, classic, rhyme

Come we to the summer, to the summer we will come,

For the woods are full of bluebells and the hedges full of bloom,

And the crow is on the oak a-building of her nest,

And love is burning diamonds in my true lover's breast…

I Am

2 September 2004
Vol. 4, No. 3
poetry, classic, rhyme

I am! yet what I am none cares or knows…

Mouse's Nest

2 September 2004
Vol. 4, No. 3
poetry, classic, sonnet, rhyme

I found a ball of grass among the hay

And progged it as I passed and went away;

And when I looked I fancied something stirred,

And turned again and hoped to catch the bird…

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