John Clare Quotes

In politics and politicians' lies The modern farmer waxes wondrous wise; Opinionates with wisdom all compact, And een could tell a nation how to act; Throws light on darkness with excessive skill, Knows who acts well and whose designs are ill, Proves half the members nought but bribery's tools, And calls the past a dull dark age of fools.

I found the poems in the fields,
And only wrote them down.

Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rude
And fled to the silence of sweet solitude.
Where the flower in green darkness buds, blossoms, and fades,
Unseen of all shepherds and flower-loving maids — The hermit bees find them but once and away.
There I'll bury alive and in silence decay.

How frail the bloom, how short the stay
That terminates us all!
Today we flourish green and gay,
Like leaves tomorrow fall.

Evening Primrose

When once the sun sinks in the west,
And dewdrops pearl the evening's breast;
Almost as pale as moonbeams are,
Or its companionable star,
The evening primrose opes anew
Its delicate blossoms to the dew;
And, hermit-like, shunning the light,
Wastes its fair bloom upon the night,
Who, blindfold to its fond caresses,
Knows not the beauty it possesses;
Thus it blooms on while night is by;
When day looks out with open eye,
Bashed at the gaze it cannot shun,
It faints and withers and is gone.

Throw not my words away, as many do; They're gold in value, though they're cheap to you.

grammar in learning is like tyranny in government - confound the bitch I'll never be her slave.

Superstition lives longer than books, it is engraved on the human mind 'til it becomes a part of its existence.

And what is Life? — An hour-glass on the run,

Language has not the power to speak what love indites
The soul lies buried in the Ink that writes

And don't despise your betters cause they're old.

I am: yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes, They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost: And yet I am, and live with shadows tost

O take me from the busy crowd,
I cannot bear the noise!
For Nature's voice is never loud;
I seek for quiet joys.
The book I love is everywhere,
And not in idle words;
The book I love is known to all,
And better lore affords.

لم أعتقد يوما أن الأفراح يمكن أن تهرب من الأولاد أو أن الأولاد سيغيرون رأيهم وينسون افراح صيف„ كتلك
لكني لم أحلم ولو قليلا بأن هناك العابا” اخرى قد امتلكها هذا العالم.

تذكارات - جون كلير

O words are poor receipts for what time hath stole away