"I am not one who was born in the custody of wisdom. I am one who is fond of olden times and intense in quest of the sacred knowing of the ancients." Gustave Courbet

28 June 2016

Charms.


IN HILLY- WOOD  

How sweet to be thus nestling deep in boughs,  
Upon an ashen stoven pillowing me; 
Faintly are heard the ploughmen at their ploughs,  
But not an eye can find its way to see. 
The sunbeams scarce molest me with a smile,  
So thick the leafy armies gather round; 
And where they do, the breeze blows cool the while,  
Their leafy shadows dancing on the ground. 
Full many a flower, too, wishing to be seen, 
Perks up its head the hiding grass between.  
In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be; 
Where all the noises, that on peace intrude,  
Come from the chittering cricket, bird, and bee, 
Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude.

John Clare

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