Life and Remains of John Clare Part 15

O come, my Isabella, love!

My dearest Isabella, come!

Thy heart's affection, let me prove, And kiss thy beauty in its bloom.

My Isabella, young and fair, Thou darling of my home and heart, Come, love, my bosom's truth to share, And of its being form a part.

THE SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER

How sweet is every lengthening day, And every change of weather, When Summer comes, on skies blue grey, And brings her hosts together, Her flocks of birds, her crowds of flowers, Her sunny-shining water!

I dearly love the woodbine bowers, That hide the Shepherd's Daughter-- In gown of green or brown or blue, The Shepherd's Daughter, leal and true.

How bonny is her lily breast!

How sweet her rosy face!

She'd give my aching bosom rest, Where love would find its place.

While earth is green, and skies are blue, And sunshine gilds the water, While Summer's sweet and Nature true, I'll love the Shepherd's Daughter-- Her nut brown hair, her clear bright eye, My daily thought, my only joy.

She's such a simple, sweet young thing, Dressed in her country costume.

My wits had used to know the Spring, Till I saw, and loved, and lost 'em.

How quietly the lily lies Upon the deepest water!

How sweet to me the Summer skies!

And so's the Shepherd's Daughter-- With lily breast and rosy face The sweetest maid in any place.

My singing bird, my bonny flower, How dearly could I love thee!

To sit with thee one pleasant hour, If thou would'st but approve me!

I swear by lilies white and yellow, That flower on deepest water, Would'st thou but make me happy fellow, I'd wed the Shepherd's Daughter!

By all that's on the earth or water, I more than love the Shepherd's Daughter.

La.s.sIE, I LOVE THEE

La.s.sie, I love thee!

The heavens above thee Look downwards to move thee, And prove my love true.

My arms round thy waist, love, My head on thy breast, love; By a true man caressed love, Ne'er bid me adieu.

Thy cheek's full o' blushes, Like the rose in the bushes, While my love ardent gushes With over delight.

Though clouds may come o'er thee, Sweet maid, I'll adore thee, As I do now before thee: I love thee outright.

It stings me to madness To see thee all gladness, While I'm full of sadness Thy meaning to guess.

Thy gown is deep blue, love, In honour of true love: Ever thinking of you, love, My love I'll confess.

My love ever showing, Thy heart worth the knowing, It is like the sun glowing, And hid in thy breast.

Thy lover behold me; To my bosom I'll fold thee, For thou, love, thou'st just told me, So here thou may'st rest.

THE GIPSY La.s.s

Just like the berry brown is my bonny la.s.sie O!

And in the smoky camp lives my bonny la.s.sie O!

Where the scented woodbine weaves Round the white-thorn's glossy leaves: The sweetest maid on earth is my gipsy la.s.sie O!

The brook it runs so clear by my bonny la.s.sie O!

And the blackbird singeth near my bonny la.s.sie O!

And there the wild briar rose Wrinkles the clear stream as it flows By the smoky camp of my bonny la.s.sie O!

The groundlark singeth high o'er my bonny la.s.sie O!

The nightingale lives nigh my gipsy la.s.sie O!

They're with her all the year, By the brook that runs so clear, And there's none in all the world like my gipsy la.s.sie O!

With a bosom white as snow is my gipsy la.s.sie O!

With a foot like to the roe is my bonny la.s.sie O!

Like the sweet birds she will sing, While echo it will ring: Sure there's none in the world like my bonny la.s.sie O!

AT THE FOOT OF CLIFFORD HILL

Who loves the white-thorn tree, And the river running free?

There a maiden stood with me In Summer weather.

Near a cottage far from town, While the sun went brightly down O'er the meadows green and brown, We loved together.

How sweet her drapery flowed, While the moor-c.o.c.k oddly crowed; I took the kiss which love bestowed, Under the white-thorn tree.

Soft winds the water curled, The trees their branches furled; Sweetest nook in all the world Is where she stood with me.

Calm came the evening air, The sky was sweet and fair, In the river shadowed there, Close by the hawthorn tree.

Round her neck I clasped my arms, And kissed her rosy charms; O'er the flood the hackle swarms, Where the maiden stood with me.

O there's something falls so dear On the music of the ear, Where the river runs so clear, And my lover met with me.

At the foot of Clifford Hill Still I hear the clacking mill, And the river's running still Under the trysting tree.

TO MY WIFE--A VALENTINE

O once I had a true love, As blest as I could be: Patty was my turtle dove, And Patty she loved me.

We walked the fields together, By roses and woodbine, In Summer's sunshine weather, And Patty she was mine.

We stopped to gather primroses, And violets white and blue, In pastures and green closes All glistening with the dew.

We sat upon green mole-hills, Among the daisy flowers, To hear the small birds' merry trills, And share the sunny hours.

The blackbird on her gra.s.sy nest We would not scare away, Who nuzzling sat with brooding breast On her eggs for half the day.

The chaffinch chirruped on the thorn, And a pretty nest had she; The magpie chattered all the morn From her perch upon the tree.