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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419488" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Summer Images</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now swarthy Summer, by rude health embrowned,<br>Precedence takes of rosy fingered Spring;<br>And laughing Joy, with wild flowers prank'd, and crown'd,<br>A wild and giddy thing,<br>And Health robust, from every care unbound,<br>Come on the zephyr's wing,<br>And cheer the toiling clown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Happy as holiday-enjoying face,<br>Loud tongued, and &quot;merry as a marriage bell,&quot;<br>Thy lightsome step sheds joy in every place;<br>And where the troubled dwell,<br>Thy witching charms wean them of half their cares;<br>And from thy sunny spell,<br>They greet joy unawares.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then with thy sultry locks all loose and rude,<br>And mantle laced with gems of garish light,<br>Come as of wont; for I would fain intrude,<br>And in the world's despite,<br>Share the rude wealth that thy own heart beguiles;<br>If haply so I might<br>Win pleasure from thy smiles.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Me not the noise of brawling pleasure cheers,<br>In nightly revels or in city streets;<br>But joys which soothe, and not distract the ears,<br>That one at leisure meets<br>In the green woods, and meadows summer-shorn,<br>Or fields, where bee-fly greets<br>The ear with mellow horn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The green-swathed grasshopper, on treble pipe,<br>Sings there, and dances, in mad-hearted pranks;<br>There bees go courting every flower that's ripe,<br>On baulks and sunny banks;<br>And droning dragon-fly, on rude bassoon,<br>Attempts to give God thanks<br>In no discordant tune.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The speckled thrush, by self-delight embued,<br>There sings unto himself for joy's amends,<br>And drinks the honey dew of solitude.<br>There Happiness attends<br>With inbred Joy until the heart o'erflow,<br>Of which the world's rude friends,<br>Nought heeding, nothing know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There the gay river, laughing as it goes,<br>Plashes with easy wave its flaggy sides,<br>And to the calm of heart, in calmness shows<br>What pleasure there abides,<br>To trace its sedgy banks, from trouble free:<br>Spots Solitude provides<br>To muse, and happy be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There ruminating 'neath some pleasant bush,<br>On sweet silk grass I stretch me at mine ease,<br>Where I can pillow on the yielding rush;<br>And, acting as I please,<br>Drop into pleasant dreams; or musing lie,<br>Mark the wind-shaken trees,<br>And cloud-betravelled sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There think me how some barter joy for care,<br>And waste life's summer-health in riot rude,<br>Of nature, nor of nature's sweets aware.<br>When passions vain intrude,<br>These, by calm musings, softened are and still;<br>And the heart's better mood<br>Feels sick of doing ill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There I can live, and at my leisure seek<br>Joys far from cold restraints--not fearing pride--<br>Free as the winds, that breathe upon my cheek<br>Rude health, so long denied.<br>Here poor Integrity can sit at ease,<br>And list self-satisfied<br>The song of honey-bees.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The green lane now I traverse, where it goes<br>Nought guessing, till some sudden turn espies<br>Rude batter'd finger post, that stooping shows<br>Where the snug mystery lies;<br>And then a mossy spire, with ivy crown,<br>Cheers up the short surprise,<br>And shows a peeping town.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see the wild flowers, in their summer morn<br>Of beauty, feeding on joy's luscious hours;<br>The gay convolvulus, wreathing round the thorn,<br>Agape for honey showers;<br>And slender kingcup, burnished with the dew<br>Of morning's early hours,<br>Like gold yminted new.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And mark by rustic bridge, o'er shallow stream,<br>Cow-tending boy, to toil unreconciled,<br>Absorbed as in some vagrant summer dream;<br>Who now, in gestures wild,<br>Starts dancing to his shadow on the wall,<br>Feeling self-gratified,<br>Nor fearing human thrall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or thread the sunny valley laced with streams,<br>Or forests rude, and the o'ershadow'd brims<br>Of simple ponds, where idle shepherd dreams,<br>Stretching his listless limbs;<br>Or trace hay-scented meadows, smooth and long,<br>Where joy's wild impulse swims<br>In one continued song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I love at early morn, from new mown swath,<br>To see the startled frog his route pursue;<br>To mark while, leaping o'er the dripping path,<br>His bright sides scatter dew,<br>The early lark that from its bustle flies,<br>To hail his matin new;<br>And watch him to the skies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To note on hedgerow baulks, in moisture sprent,<br>The jetty snail creep from the mossy thorn,<br>With earnest heed, and tremulous intent,<br>Frail brother of the morn,<br>That from the tiny bent's dew-misted leaves<br>Withdraws his timid horn,<br>And fearful vision weaves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or swallow heed on smoke-tanned chimney top,<br>Wont to be first unsealing Morning's eye,<br>Ere yet the bee hath gleaned one wayward drop<br>Of honey on his thigh;<br>To see him seek morn's airy couch to sing,<br>Until the golden sky<br>Bepaint his russet wing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or sauntering boy by tanning corn to spy,<br>With clapping noise to startle birds away,<br>And hear him bawl to every passer by<br>To know the hour of day;<br>While the uncradled breezes, fresh and strong,<br>With waking blossoms play,<br>And breathe Æolian song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I love the south-west wind, or low or loud,<br>And not the less when sudden drops of rain<br>Moisten my glowing cheek from ebon cloud,<br>Threatening soft showers again,<br>That over lands new ploughed and meadow grounds,<br>Summer's sweet breath unchain,<br>And wake harmonious sounds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rich music breathes in Summer's every sound;<br>And in her harmony of varied greens,<br>Woods, meadows, hedge-rows, corn-fields, all around<br>Much beauty intervenes,<br>Filling with harmony the ear and eye;<br>While o'er the mingling scenes<br>Far spreads the laughing sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">See, how the wind-enamoured aspen leaves<br>Turn up their silver lining to the sun!<br>And hark! the rustling noise, that oft deceives,<br>And makes the sheep-boy run:<br>The sound so mimics fast-approaching showers,<br>He thinks the rain's begun,<br>And hastes to sheltering bowers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But now the evening curdles dank and grey,<br>Changing her watchet hue for sombre weed;<br>And moping owls, to close the lids of day,<br>On drowsy wing proceed;<br>While chickering crickets, tremulous and long,<br>Light's farewell inly heed,<br>And give it parting song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The pranking bat its flighty circlet makes;<br>The glow-worm burnishes its lamp anew;<br>O'er meadows dew-besprent, the beetle wakes<br>Inquiries ever new,<br>Teazing each passing ear with murmurs vain,<br>As wanting to pursue<br>His homeward path again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hark! 'tis the melody of distant bells<br>That on the wind with pleasing hum rebounds<br>By fitful starts, then musically swells<br>O'er the dim stilly grounds;<br>While on the meadow-bridge the pausing boy<br>Listens the mellow sounds,<br>And hums in vacant joy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now homeward-bound, the hedger bundles round<br>His evening faggot, and with every stride<br>His leathern doublet leaves a rustling sound,<br>Till silly sheep beside<br>His path start tremulous, and once again<br>Look back dissatisfied,<br>And scour the dewy plain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How sweet the soothing calmness that distills<br>O'er the heart's every sense its opiate dews,<br>In meek-eyed moods and ever balmy trills!<br>That softens and subdues,<br>With gentle Quiet's bland and sober train,<br>Which dreamy eve renews<br>In many a mellow strain!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I love to walk the fields, they are to me<br>A legacy no evil can destroy;<br>They, like a spell, set every rapture free<br>That cheer'd me when a boy.<br>Play--pastime--all Time's blotting pen conceal'd,<br>Comes like a new-born joy,<br>To greet me in the field.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For Nature's objects ever harmonize<br>With emulous Taste, that vulgar deed annoys;<br>Which loves in pensive moods to sympathize,<br>And meet vibrating joys<br>O'er Nature's pleasing things; nor slighting, deems<br>Pastimes, the Muse employs,<br>Vain and obtrusive themes.</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=419488" data-title="Summer Images de John Clare" data-description="Now swarthy Summer, by rude health embrowned,
Precedence takes of rosy fingered Spring;
And laughing Joy, with wild flowers prank'd, and crown'd,
A wild and giddy thing,
And Health robust, from every care unbound,
Come on the zephyr's wing,
And ch..."></div>
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