John Clare

(13 July 1793 – 20 May 1864 / Northamptonshire / England)

John Clare Poems

41. Gipsies 4/13/2010
42. Grasshoppers 4/13/2010
43. Graves Of Infants 4/13/2010
44. Hen's Nest 1/3/2003
45. Hodge 4/13/2010
46. House Or Window Flies 4/13/2010
47. I Am 1/3/2003
48. I Dreamt Of Robin 4/13/2010
49. I Hid My Love 1/3/2003
50. Idle Fame 4/13/2010
51. Impromptu 4/13/2010
52. In Hilly-Wood 4/13/2010
53. In Summer Showers A Skreeking Noise Is Heard -new- 5/21/2015
54. Insects 1/3/2003
55. Invitation To Eternity 4/13/2010
56. June 3/26/2015
57. Letter In Verse 4/13/2010
58. Little Trotty Wagtail 4/13/2010
59. Love 4/13/2010
60. Love Cannot Die 4/13/2010
61. Love Lives Beyond The Tomb 1/3/2003
62. Market Day 4/13/2010
63. Mary Bateman 4/13/2010
64. May 1/3/2003
65. Meet Me In The Green Glen 1/3/2003
66. Merry Maid 4/13/2010
67. Mouse's Nest 12/17/2014
68. Nature's Hymn To The Deity 4/13/2010
69. Night Wind 1/3/2003
70. Nobody Cometh To Woo 4/13/2010
71. November 1/3/2003
72. Now Is Past 4/13/2010
73. Patty Of The Vale 4/13/2010
74. Peggy 4/13/2010
75. Peggy's The Lady Of The Hall 4/13/2010
76. Pleasures Of Fancy 4/13/2010
77. Ploughman Singing 4/13/2010
78. Quail's Nest 4/13/2010
79. Remembrances 1/3/2003
80. Rural Morning 4/13/2010
Best Poem of John Clare

I Am

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

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
And e'en the dearest--that I loved the best--
Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man has never ...

Read the full of I Am

The Shepherd's Tree

Huge elm, with rifted trunk all notched and scarred,
Like to a warrior's destiny! I love
To stretch me often on thy shadowed sward,
And hear the laugh of summer leaves above;
Or on thy buttressed roots to sit, and lean
In careless attitude, and there reflect
On times and deeds and darings that have been -
Old castaways, now swallowed in neglect, -
While thou art towering in thy strength of heart,

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