He plays with other boys when work is done,
But feels too clumsy and too stiff to run,
Yet where there's mischief he can find a way
The first to join and last [to run] away.
What's said or done he never hears or minds
But gets his pence for all the eggs he finds.
He thinks his master's horses far the best,
And always labours longer than the rest.
In frost and cold though lame he's forced to go--
The call's more urgent when he journeys slow.
In surly speed he helps the maids by force
And feeds the cows and hallos till he's hoarse;
And when he's lame they only jest and play
And bid him throw his kiby heels away.
John Clare's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Hodge by John Clare )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- April fool, lee fones
- Half My Life (Secret Message Poem), Ronald Chapman
- H.G Well's Folly, Ronald Chapman
- Good Dream Or Bad Dream For A Writer? Yo.., Ronald Chapman
- The wave, Tony Adah
- Look me in the eye, Poison kuhn
- The Goat (Children's Poem), Ronald Chapman
- ONE'S LIFE SHARE IN LIFE نصيب الواحد في .., MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Mystery of poem, gajanan mishra
- Dramatization, Kewayne Wadley