The Beautiful Stranger
I cannot know what country owns thee now,
With France's forest lilies on thy brow.
When England knew thee thou wert passing fair;
I never knew a foreign face so rare.
The world of waters rolls and rushes bye,
Nor lets me wander where thy vallies lie.
But surely France must be a pleasant place
That greets the stranger with so fair a face;
The English maiden blushes down the dance,
But few can equal the fair maid of France.
I saw thee lovely and I wished thee mine,
And the last song I ever wrote is thine.
Thy country's honour on thy face attends;
Men may be foes but beauty makes us friends.
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 (The Beautiful Stranger 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?
- I am yours forever, gajanan mishra
- सिनायमोनि आंनि सिमांनि रजे, Bahadur Basumatary
- Wildly Into The Night, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Drunk poetry, Christian Lacdael
- Opportunities, Christian Lacdael
- COPLA 68 INVOCATION: This Bad Guy World, T (no first name) Wignesan
- Yes I Do, Lalit Kaira
- Wooden Footprints, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- New Migration Equilibriums Time Shift Es.., Terence G. Craddock
- bonnie to your clyde, Mandolyn ...