The turkeys wade the close to catch the bees
In the old border full of maple trees
And often lay away and breed and come
And bring a brood of chelping chickens home.
The turkey gobbles loud and drops his rag
And struts and sprunts his tail and then lets drag
His wing on ground and makes a huzzing noise,
Nauntles at passer-bye and drives the boys
And bounces up and flies at passer-bye.
The old dog snaps and grins nor ventures nigh.
He gobbles loud and drives the boys from play;
They throw their sticks and kick and run 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 (Turkeys by John Clare )
Did you read them?
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Footsteps of Angels, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- Farewell, Anne Brontë
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
- Heather Burns