Minstrelsy.

The LAST of SUMMER

A beauty on the scene attends

Ere autumn comes & summer ends

When summers glory first we see

As staind with its mortality

A tree turnd yellow ere & there

& some already nearly bare

Who in the sun fade sick & fall

& leave a lesson with us all

& clouded skyes that hourly wain

& brighten into smiles again

Oer clearing fields & parched bowers

& witherd tufts that once was flowers

Nor can I wish those scenes away

So beautiful in their decay

For summers smiles to yearly be

Or give springs hopes eternity

Around me wood & valley seems

Fading in visionary dreams

A fairey scene that once begun

To fade & sicken in the sun

Decks in new beautys wood & hill

& like enchantment varies still

A rainbow glory nature weaves

Around her dwelling ere she leaves

Her autumns sickning toils to keep

Her sabbath rest of winter sleep

Oft in my earlier days of leisure

I felt a mellancholy pleasure

To track the sun burnt heaths & plains

When summers dazzling glory wains

When flowers had left the open walks

& nought appeard but rustling stalks

& those still lingering loath to fade

Were daily sickening in the shade

When orchard apple reddening mellow

& woodland branches sickening yellow

Proclaim the summers first decay

& autumn hastning on his way

& I do love this season still

To ramble round the scenes at will

To rove the smoothly shaven meadow

Were fading summer like a widow

Bewails in silence heavy hearted

The pleasant din of days departed

When sweeping mowers late & soon

From sunrise to eves dewy moon

Toild cheerful oer its level ground

& whetting sythes kept tinkling round

When swain & maid in artless glee

Sing round the haycock merrily

Mixing with grass[h]opper & bee

The summers soul of mellody

So sweet that ecchos extasys

Murmurd their mirth in mild replys

Tho these are gone & in their stead

A silent scene around is spread

A russet level bleak & bare

With yellow blossom here & there

Sickly smiling on the sun

As tho they wishd their end to shun

Till noon tide bids their hopes be oer

& evens dews can heal no more

Then dropping in their grave the grass

They claim our pity as we pass

Tho no fond bee with cheering hum

To their lorn bosoms cares to come

Tho fled the din of sythe & men

& but an odd lark now & then

Starts from its lonley naked way

To hope & sing for summers stay

Yet wandering in these fields at will

I feel a saddend pleasure still

Each morn wakes wan its sunlight wains

On yellowing leaves & fading plains

Green fields no more the summer views

All sicknd into ripend hues

Of brown & grey & darksome glooms

That mark the path were autum comes

& in each woodlands buried way

The dew drop lives for half the day

Dank mists oft creep 'tween earth & skye

& dreaming dim the mornings eye

& dullness wears along the while

As if the sun was loath to smile

Yet at mid day his feebld powers

Will brighten up in sultry hours

& sweating toil that often stops

To wipe aside the falling drops

Piercd with his downward daily ray

Wishes the lagging hours away

By swallows we may plain percieve

When summers on the point to leave

Who shun the pond & rippeling spring

Were oft they dipt their sutty wing

& green lanes were from morn till night

They joyd to weel their circling flight

Now perchd on cottage tops to rest

They twit & prune each dingy breast

Or flock together in the skye

As if to learn their young to flye

Preparing each unpractisd wing

For flight to seek another spring

Each orchard now is smiling gay

Glittering in the morning ray

Rich clustering plums of varied hue

Of freckld red & misty blue

& suntand pears with ruddy streak

Brown as was summers lusty cheek

& blushing apples round & red

Whose loaded branches pat the head

Of longing maid who hither goes

To hang on lines the bleaching cloaths

She views the fruit with tempting eye

& steals one as she saunters bye

& boys will often slive from play

& in the orchard find a way

Hurling up stones with jerking spring

Or sti[c]ks with many a sturdy swing

Till on the foot markd batterd ground

The pears & apples patter round

& truant school boys stealing play

Oft sneaks along some secret way

Tho neer a nest his eye percieves

Tho pootys hide in falling leaves

Yet are there hips & haws to seek

& suntand crabs with ruddy cheek

& with harsh grin & w[r]inkld frown

He chews the unpleasant prizes down

& arching oer the woodland way

Blackberrys tempt his thoughts astray

Sloes powderd oer with misty down

From hedges too he scrambles down

By shepherds deemd a pleasant treat

Tho not till winter makes them sweet

When frost nipt they awake desire

& anxious to his cottage fire

On the clear blaze each branch he th[r]ows

& roasts the hissing sputtering sloes

Now mushrooms with the morning light

Above the whet grass glisten white

Whose shade perhaps in nights wet hours

May serve the faireys sports for bowers

& often in the morning hours

That cheer awhile half witherd flowers

Ive markd suprisd as passing bye

Unseen save by each curious eye

From bent to bent oer closes spread

The slender cobwebs silken thread

By unseen insects finely spun

Glittering in the gleaming sun

Nor is the summers farewell hours

Always left without their flowers

The majoram oft in shady lane

Nights plentious dews revive again

Long scorchd in summers earlier hours

It now will freshen into flowers

On hills & roads & every where

The ragwort blossoms half the year

& thistles on each rushy baulk

Are constant blushing in our walk

That towers in scornful majesty

Oer oddling daiseys peeping nigh

Untouchd by sheep that hither stray

Who from its pr[i]ckles sneak away

& endive flowering closly bye

That steals its colors from the sky

The old-mans-beard too in its prime

Covers the hedges like a rime

With downy flowers that thickly twind

Oft shields the swain from rain & wind

These live till summers last decay

& lingering oft in fond delay

With autumn if she enters mild

Are sought & found by many a child

Who sort their blooms in poseys fair

& garlands glad her yellow hair

O Autumn now thy reign is nigh

I feign woud hail thy majesty

But hollow winds & tumbling floods

& singing showers & yellow woods

These are thy mighty minstrelsy

Who maddening into life with thee

Woud make amid their strains divine

Unheard the song so tame as mine.

John Clare

Thanks for the reminder, Kurt.