I sleep with thee, and wake with thee, And yet thou are not there; I fill my arms with thoughts of thee, And press the common air. - John Clare

O I never thought that joys would run away from boys,
Or that boys would change their minds and forsake such summer joys;
But alack I never dreamed that the world had other toys

I hid my love in field and town Till een the breeze would knock me down, The bees seemed singing ballads oer, The fly's bass turned a lion's roar; And even silence found a tongue, To haunt me all the summer long; The riddle nature could not prove Was nothing else but secret love.

For everything I felt a love,
the weeds below the birds above.