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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419483" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sport In The Meadows</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Maytime is to the meadows coming in,<br>And cowslip peeps have gotten eer so big,<br>And water blobs and all their golden kin<br>Crowd round the shallows by the striding brig.<br>Daisies and buttercups and ladysmocks<br>Are all abouten shining here and there,<br>Nodding about their gold and yellow locks<br>Like morts of folken flocking at a fair.<br>The sheep and cows are crowding for a share<br>And snatch the blossoms in such eager haste<br>That basket-bearing children running there<br>Do think within their hearts they'll get them all<br>And hoot and drive them from their graceless waste<br>As though there wa'n't a cowslip peep to spare.<br>--For they want some for tea and some for wine<br>And some to maken up a cuckaball<br>To throw across the garland's silken line<br>That reaches oer the street from wall to wall.<br>--Good gracious me, how merrily they fare:<br>One sees a fairer cowslip than the rest,<br>And off they shout--the foremost bidding fair<br>To get the prize--and earnest half and jest<br>The next one pops her down--and from her hand<br>Her basket falls and out her cowslips all<br>Tumble and litter there--the merry band<br>In laughing friendship round about her fall<br>To helpen gather up the littered flowers<br>That she no loss may mourn. And now the wind<br>In frolic mood among the merry hours<br>Wakens with sudden start and tosses off<br>Some untied bonnet on its dancing wings;<br>Away they follow with a scream and laugh,<br>And aye the youngest ever lags behind,<br>Till on the deep lake's very bank it hings.<br>They shout and catch it and then off they start<br>And chase for cowslips merry as before,<br>And each one seems so anxious at the heart<br>As they would even get them all and more.<br>One climbs a molehill for a bunch of may,<br>One stands on tiptoe for a linnet's nest<br>And pricks her hand and throws her flowers away<br>And runs for plantin leaves to have it drest.<br>So do they run abouten all the day<br>And teaze the grass-hid larks from getting rest.<br>--Scarce give they time in their unruly haste<br>To tie a shoestring that the grass unties--<br>And thus they run the meadows' bloom to waste,<br>Till even comes and dulls their phantasies,<br>When one finds losses out to stifle smiles<br>Of silken bonnet-strings--and utters sigh<br>Oer garments renten clambering over stiles.<br>Yet in the morning fresh afield they hie,<br>Bidding the last day's troubles all goodbye;<br>When red pied cow again their coming hears,<br>And ere they clap the gate she tosses up<br>Her head and hastens from the sport she fears:<br>The old yoe calls her lamb nor cares to stoop<br>To crop a cowslip in their company.<br>Thus merrily the little noisy troop<br>Along the grass as rude marauders hie,<br>For ever noisy and for ever gay<br>While keeping in the meadows holiday.</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=419483" data-title="Sport In The Meadows de John Clare" data-description="Maytime is to the meadows coming in,
And cowslip peeps have gotten eer so big,
And water blobs and all their golden kin
Crowd round the shallows by the striding brig.
Daisies and buttercups and ladysmocks
Are all abouten shining here and there,
No..."></div>
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