John Clare

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

John Clare Poems

121. The Lout 4/13/2010
122. The Maid Of Jerusalem 4/13/2010
123. The Maid Of Ocram, Or, Lord Gregory 4/13/2010
124. The Maple Tree 1/3/2003
125. The Mores 1/3/2003
126. The Nightingale's Nest 1/3/2003
127. The Old Cottagers 4/13/2010
128. The Old Year 1/3/2003
129. The Peasant Poet 4/13/2010
130. The Poet's Death 4/13/2010
131. The Sailor-Boy 4/13/2010
132. The Secret 1/3/2003
133. The Shepherds Calendar - April 4/13/2010
134. The Shepherd's Calendar - August 4/13/2010
135. The Shepherds Calendar - February - A Thaw 4/13/2010
136. The Shepherds Calendar - January- Winters Day 4/13/2010
137. The Shepherds Calendar - July 4/13/2010
138. The Shepherds Calendar - July (2nd Version) 4/13/2010
139. The Shepherd's Calendar - June 4/13/2010
140. The Shepherds Calendar - March 4/13/2010
141. The Shepherds Calendar - May 4/13/2010
142. The Shepherds Calendar - November 4/13/2010
143. The Shepherd's Calendar - October 4/13/2010
144. The Shepherd's Calendar - September 4/13/2010
145. The Shepherd's Tree 1/3/2003
146. The Skylark 1/3/2003
147. The Sleep Of Spring 4/13/2010
148. The Soldier 4/13/2010
149. The Stranger 4/13/2010
150. The Swallow 4/13/2010
151. The Thrush's Nest 1/3/2003
152. The Tramp 4/13/2010
153. The Vanities Of Life 4/13/2010
154. The Vixen 1/3/2003
155. The Winter's Come 4/13/2010
156. The Winter's Spring 1/3/2003
157. The Wood-Cutter's Night Song 4/13/2010
158. The Yellowhammer 4/13/2010
159. Thou Flower Of Summer 4/13/2010
160. To A Fallen Elm 1/3/2003
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,

[Hata Bildir]