Life and Remains of John Clare, The "Northamptonshire Peasant Poet"

Name: Life and Remains of John Clare, The "Northamptonshire Peasant Poet"
Author: Clare, John

Clare, John

Clare, John, 1793-1864

I put my finger in a bush,
  Thinking the sweeter rose to find;
  I pricked my finger to the bone,
  And left the sweetest rose behind.

  I threw a stone into the sea,
  And deep it sunk into the sand,
  And so did my poor heart in me
  When my false lover left the land.

  I watched the sun an hour too soon
  Set into clouds behind the town;
  So my false lover left, and said
  "Good night" before the day was down.

  I cropt a lily from the stalk,
  And in my hand it died away;
  So did my joy, so will my heart,
  In false love's cruel grasp decay.




THE MAIDEN'S WELCOME

  Of all the swains that meet at eve
  Upon the green to play,
  The shepherd is the lad for me,
  And I'll ne'er say him nay.
  Though father glowers beneath his hat,
  And mother talks of bed,
  I'll take my cloak up, late or soon,
  To meet my shepherd lad.

  Aunt Kitty loved a soldier lad,
  Who left her love for war;
  A sailor loved my sister Sue,
  Whose jacket smelt of tar;
  But my love's sweet as land new ploughed;
  He is my heart's delight,
  And he ne'er leaves his love so far
  But he can come at night.

  So father he may glower and frown,
  And mother scold about it;
  The shepherd has my heart to keep,
  And can I live without it?
  I'm sure he will not part with it,
  In spite of what they say,
  And if he would as sure I am
  It would not come away.

  So friends may frown, while I can smile
  To know I'm loved by one
  Who has my heart, and him to seek
  What better can be done?
  And be it Spring or Summer both,
  Or be it Winter cold,
  If pots should freeze upon the fire
  I'd meet him at the fold.

  I'm fain to make my wedding gown,
  Which he has bought for me,
  But it will wake my mother's thoughts,
  And evil they will be,
  Although he has but stole my heart,
  Which gives me nought of pain,
  For bye and bye he'll buy the ring,
  And bring my heart again.




THE FALSE KNIGHT'S TRAGEDY

[Students of ballad literature will be reminded by the following poem
of the "May Colleen" and "The Outlandish Knight" of other
collections. The resemblance between the three ballads is general up
to a certain point, but a striking contrast occurs in the denouement,
for whereas in other versions the maiden contrives by a simple
stratagem to fling her false lover into the sea, where she leaves him
to his fate, in the following she falls a victim to his treachery.
His fitting end is, however, indicated in the remarkable stanza with
which the ballad closes.]

  A false knight wooed a maiden poor,
  And his high halls left he
  To stoop in at her cottage door,
  When night left none to see.

  And, well-a-day, it is a tale
  For pity too severe--
  A tale would melt the sternest eye,
  And wake the deafest ear.

  He stole her heart, he stole her love,
  'T was all the wealth she had;
  Her truth and fame likewise stole he,

  *   *   *   *

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

Life and Remains of John Clare, The "Northamptonshire Peasant Poet"Clare, John

General

Life and Remains of John Clare, The "Northamptonshire Peasant Poet"

Clare, John

Clare, John, 1793-1864

I put my finger in a bush,
  Thinking the sweeter rose to find;
  I pricked my finger to the bone,
  And left the sweetest rose behind.

  I threw a stone into the sea,
  And deep it sunk into the sand,
  And so did my poor heart in me
  When my false lover left the land.

  I watched the sun an hour too soon
  Set into clouds behind the town;
  So my false lover left, and said
  "Good night" before the day was down.

  I cropt a lily from the stalk,
  And in my hand it died away;
  So did my joy, so will my heart,
  In false love's cruel grasp decay.




THE MAIDEN'S WELCOME

  Of all the swains that meet at eve
  Upon the green to play,
  The shepherd is the lad for me,
  And I'll ne'er say him nay.
  Though father glowers beneath his hat,
  And mother talks of bed,
  I'll take my cloak up, late or soon,
  To meet my shepherd lad.

  Aunt Kitty loved a soldier lad,
  Who left her love for war;
  A sailor loved my sister Sue,
  Whose jacket smelt of tar;
  But my love's sweet as land new ploughed;
  He is my heart's delight,
  And he ne'er leaves his love so far
  But he can come at night.

  So father he may glower and frown,
  And mother scold about it;
  The shepherd has my heart to keep,
  And can I live without it?
  I'm sure he will not part with it,
  In spite of what they say,
  And if he would as sure I am
  It would not come away.

  So friends may frown, while I can smile
  To know I'm loved by one
  Who has my heart, and him to seek
  What better can be done?
  And be it Spring or Summer both,
  Or be it Winter cold,
  If pots should freeze upon the fire
  I'd meet him at the fold.

  I'm fain to make my wedding gown,
  Which he has bought for me,
  But it will wake my mother's thoughts,
  And evil they will be,
  Although he has but stole my heart,
  Which gives me nought of pain,
  For bye and bye he'll buy the ring,
  And bring my heart again.




THE FALSE KNIGHT'S TRAGEDY

[Students of ballad literature will be reminded by the following poem
of the "May Colleen" and "The Outlandish Knight" of other
collections. The resemblance between the three ballads is general up
to a certain point, but a striking contrast occurs in the denouement,
for whereas in other versions the maiden contrives by a simple
stratagem to fling her false lover into the sea, where she leaves him
to his fate, in the following she falls a victim to his treachery.
His fitting end is, however, indicated in the remarkable stanza with
which the ballad closes.]

  A false knight wooed a maiden poor,
  And his high halls left he
  To stoop in at her cottage door,
  When night left none to see.

  And, well-a-day, it is a tale
  For pity too severe--
  A tale would melt the sternest eye,
  And wake the deafest ear.

  He stole her heart, he stole her love,
  'T was all the wealth she had;
  Her truth and fame likewise stole he,

  *   *   *   *

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Life and Remains of John Clare, The "Northamptonshire Peasant Poet"

Life and Remains of John Clare, The "Northamptonshire Peasant Poet"

No reviews yet