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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419469" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Remembrances</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Summer pleasures they are gone like to visions every one<br>And the cloudy days of autumn and of winter cometh on<br>I tried to call them back but unbidden they are gone<br>Far away from heart and eye and for ever far away<br>Dear heart and can it be that such raptures meet decay<br>I thought them all eternal when by Langley Bush I lay<br>I thought them joys eternal when I used to shout and play<br>On its bank at 'clink and bandy' 'chock' and 'taw' and<br>ducking stone<br>Where silence sitteth now on the wild heath as her own<br>Like a ruin of the past all alone</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>When I used to lie and sing by old eastwells boiling spring<br>When I used to tie the willow boughs together for a 'swing'<br>And fish with crooked pins and thread and never catch a<br>thing<br>With heart just like a feather- now as heavy as a stone<br>When beneath old lea close oak I the bottom branches broke<br>To make our harvest cart like so many working folk<br>And then to cut a straw at the brook to have a soak<br>O I never dreamed of parting or that trouble had a sting<br>Or that pleasures like a flock of birds would ever take to<br>wing<br>Leaving nothing but a little naked spring</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>When jumping time away on old cross berry way<br>And eating awes like sugar plumbs ere they had lost the may<br>And skipping like a leveret before the peep of day<br>On the rolly polly up and downs of pleasant swordy well<br>When in round oaks narrow lane as the south got black again<br>We sought the hollow ash that was shelter from the rain<br>With our pockets full of peas we had stolen from the grain<br>How delicious was the dinner time on such a showry day<br>O words are poor receipts for what time hath stole away<br>The ancient pulpit trees and the play</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>When for school oer 'little field' with its brook and wooden<br>brig<br>Where I swaggered like a man though I was not half so big<br>While I held my little plough though twas but a willow twig<br>And drove my team along made of nothing but a name<br>'Gee hep' and 'hoit' and 'woi'- O I never call to mind<br>These pleasant names of places but I leave a sigh behind<br>While I see the little mouldywharps hang sweeing to the wind<br>On the only aged willow that in all the field remains<br>And nature hides her face where theyre sweeing in their<br>chains<br>And in a silent murmuring complains</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Here was commons for the hills where they seek for<br>freedom still<br>Though every commons gone and though traps are set to kill<br>The little homeless miners- O it turns my bosom chill<br>When I think of old 'sneap green' puddocks nook and hilly<br>snow<br>Where bramble bushes grew and the daisy gemmed in dew<br>And the hills of silken grass like to cushions to the view<br>When we threw the pissmire crumbs when we's nothing<br>else to do<br>All leveled like a desert by the never weary plough<br>All vanished like the sun where that cloud is passing now<br>All settled here for ever on its brow</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I never thought that joys would run away from boys<br>Or that boys would change their minds and forsake such<br>summer joys<br>But alack I never dreamed that the world had other toys<br>To petrify first feelings like the fable into stone<br>Till I found the pleasure past and a winter come at last<br>Then the fields were sudden bare and the sky got overcast<br>And boyhoods pleasing haunts like a blossom in the blast<br>Was shrivelled to a withered weed and trampled down and<br>done<br>Till vanished was the morning spring and set that summer<br>sun<br>And winter fought her battle strife and won</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>By Langley bush I roam but the bush hath left its hill<br>On cowper green I stray tis a desert strange and chill<br>And spreading lea close oak ere decay had penned its will<br>To the axe of the spoiler and self interest fell a prey<br>And cross berry way and old round oaks narrow lane<br>With its hollow trees like pulpits I shall never see again<br>Inclosure like a Buonaparte let not a thing remain<br>It levelled every bush and tree and levelled every hill<br>And hung the moles for traitors - though the brook is<br>running still<br>It runs a naked brook cold and chill</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>O had I known as then joy had left the paths of men<br>I had watched her night and day besure and never slept agen<br>And when she turned to go O I'd caught her mantle then<br>And wooed her like a lover by my lonely side to stay<br>Aye knelt and worshipped on as love in beautys bower<br>And clung upon her smiles as a bee upon her flower<br>And gave her heart my poesys all cropt in a sunny hour<br>As keepsakes and pledges to fade away<br>But love never heeded to treasure up the may<br>So it went the comon road with decay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Clare">John Clare</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419469" data-title="Remembrances de John Clare" data-description="Summer pleasures they are gone like to visions every one
And the cloudy days of autumn and of winter cometh on
I tried to call them back but unbidden they are gone
Far away from heart and eye and for ever far away
Dear heart and can it be that suc..."></div>
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