Joy.

Wyeth (Andrew), Albinos Study, 2002

 The SHEPHERD'S CALENDAR: OCTOBER

Nature now spreads around in dreary hue

A pall to cover all that summer knew

Yet in the poets solitary way

Some pleasing objects for his praise delay

Somthing that makes him pause and turn again

As every trifle will his eye detain

The free horse rustling through the stubble land

And bawling herd boy with his motly band

Of hogs and sheep and cows who feed their fill

Oer cleard fields rambling where so ere they will

The geese flock gabbling in the splashy fields

And quaking ducks in pondweeds half conseald

Or seeking worms along the homclose sward

Right glad of freedom from the prison yard

While every cart rut dribbles its low tide

And every hollow splashing sports provide

The hedger stopping gaps wi pointed bough

Made by intruding horse and blundering cow

The milk maid tripping on her morning way

And fodderers oft tho early cutting hay

Dropping the littering forkfulls from his back

Side where the thorn fence circles round the stack

The cotter journying wi his noisev swine

Along the wood side where the brambles twine

Shaking from dinted cups the acorns brown

And from the hedges red awes dashing down

And nutters rustling in the yellow woods

Scaring from their snug lairs the pheasant broods

And squirrels secret toils oer winter dreams

Picking the brown nuts from the yellow beams

And hunters from the thickets avenue

In scarlet jackets startling on the view

Skiming a moment oer the russet plain

Then hiding in the colord woods again

The ploping guns sharp momentary shock

Which eccho bustles from her cave to mock

The sticking groups in many a ragged set

Brushing the woods their harmless loads to get

And gipseys camps in some snug shelterd nook

Where old lane hedges like the pasture brook

Run crooking as they will by wood and dell

In such lone spots these wild wood roamers dwell

On commons where no farmers claims appear

Nor tyrant justice rides to interfere

Such the abodes neath hedge or spreading oak

And but discovered by its curling smoak

Puffing and peeping up as wills the breeze

Between the branches of the colord trees

Such are the pictures that october yields

To please the poet as he walks the fields

Oft dames in faded cloak of red or grey

Loiters along the mornings dripping way

Wi wicker basket on their witherd arms

Searching the hedges of home close or farms

Where brashy elder trees to autum fade

Each cotters mossy hut and garden shade

Whose glossy berrys picturesquly weaves

Their swathy bunches mid the yellow leaves

Where the pert sparrow stains his little bill

And tutling robin picks his meals at will

Black ripening to the wan suns misty ray

Here the industrious huswives wend their way

Pulling the brittle branches carefull down

And hawking loads of berrys to the town

Wi unpretending skill yet half divine

To press and make their eldern berry wine

That bottld up becomes a rousing charm

To kindle winters icy bosom warm

That wi its merry partner nut brown beer

Makes up the peasants christmass keeping cheer

While nature like fair woman in decay

Which pale consumption hourly wastes away

Upon her waining features pale and chill

Wears dreams of beauty that seem lovely still

Among the heath furze still delights to dwell

Quaking as if with cold the harvest bell

The mushroom buttons each moist morning brings

Like spots of snow in the green tawney rings

And fuzz balls swelld like bladders in the grass

Which oft the merry laughing milking lass

Will stoop to gather in her sportive airs

And slive in mimickd fondness unawares

To smut the brown cheek of the teazing swain

Wi the black powder which their balls contain

Who feigns offence at first that love may speed

Then charms a kiss to recompence the deed

The flying clouds urged on in swiftest pace

Like living things as if they runned a race

The winds that oer each coming tempest broods

Waking like spirits in their startling moods

Fluttering the sear leaves on the blasting lea

That litters under every fading tree

And pausing oft as falls the pattering rain

Then gathering strength and twirling them again

The startld stockdove hurried wizzing bye

As the still hawk hangs oer him in the sky

Crows from the oak trees qawking as they spring

Dashing the acorns down wi beating wing

Waking the woodlands sleep in noises low

Pattring on crimpt brakes withering brown below

While from their hollow nest the squirrels (pop)

Adown the tree to pick them as they drop

The starnel crowds that dim the muddy light

The crows and jackdaws flapping home at night

And puddock circling round its lazy flight

Round the wild sweeing wood in motion slow

Before it perches on the oaks below

And hugh black beetles revelling alone

In the dull evening with their heavy drone

Buzzing from barn door straw and hovel sides

Where fodderd cattle from the night abides

These pictures linger thro the shortning day

And cheer the lone bards mellancholy way

And now and then a solitary boy

Journeying and muttering oer his dreams of joy.

John Clare