John Clare

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

John Clare Poems

1. In Summer Showers A Skreeking Noise Is Heard 5/21/2015
2. June 3/26/2015
3. The Universal Epitaph 10/20/2015
4. The Badger 1/17/2015
5. Mouse's Nest 12/17/2014
6. The Lass With The Delicate Air 4/13/2010
7. Sunday Dip 4/13/2010
8. The Shepherds Calendar - July (2nd Version) 4/13/2010
9. Farm Breakfast 4/13/2010
10. Idle Fame 4/13/2010
11. The Maid Of Jerusalem 4/13/2010
12. Spear Thistle 4/13/2010
13. Merry Maid 4/13/2010
14. The Lout 4/13/2010
15. The Cottager 4/13/2010
16. Peggy's The Lady Of The Hall 4/13/2010
17. House Or Window Flies 4/13/2010
18. Impromptu 4/13/2010
19. Ploughman Singing 4/13/2010
20. Nobody Cometh To Woo 4/13/2010
21. Letter In Verse 4/13/2010
22. The Beautiful Stranger 4/13/2010
23. Nature's Hymn To The Deity 4/13/2010
24. The Sailor-Boy 4/13/2010
25. The Cellar Door 4/13/2010
26. Scandal 4/13/2010
27. The Frightened Ploughman 4/13/2010
28. The Crow Sat On The Willow 4/13/2010
29. The Shepherds Calendar - July 4/13/2010
30. Patty Of The Vale 4/13/2010
31. The Shepherd's Calendar - October 4/13/2010
32. Song #5 4/13/2010
33. The Shepherds Calendar - November 4/13/2010
34. Mary Bateman 4/13/2010
35. Song #3 4/13/2010
36. The Shepherd's Calendar - August 4/13/2010
37. Graves Of Infants 4/13/2010
38. In Hilly-Wood 4/13/2010
39. Pleasures Of Fancy 4/13/2010
40. From 4/13/2010

Comments about John Clare

  • Chuck Taylor (8/21/2018 3:48:00 PM)

    It's almost as if he was a modern poet, Clare, in poems like The Badger, . He doesn't use hollow rotund words, but gets to the nitty-gritty.

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  • Roxanne Herrera Roxanne Herrera (6/11/2018 3:38:00 PM)

    https:m.poemhunter.compoemi-cant-be-sad check out my poems please ill really appreciate it.

  • Veronica-Mae (6/10/2018 6:59:00 AM)

    Oh dear - this poet (I am told) did not post any poems in the last 14 days! !

  • rahil (3/31/2018 12:31:00 AM)

    Add a comment dream

  • Donique thompson (3/28/2018 6:23:00 AM)

    Love your poems

  • ghcgv (1/9/2018 3:38:00 AM)

    he was a rubbish poet

  • Imogen c (12/12/2007 5:04:00 AM)

    his poems to me are only surpassed by shakespeare. i think that he is one of the very best english poets and the fact that he wasnt some weathly little snob who sat lazzaly scralling out his veiws on the world like alot of the classic english poets were makes him so much more importaint. he actualy experinced a bloody awfull life and it seems that it makes him more credable and more real i mean when he talks about suffering he realy knows what he is talking about he was a awsome guy and yeah

  • Tod Mcgrath (12/5/2005 2:58:00 PM)

    John was a living legend although I thought he herded animals better than he wrote poems but that just my opinion and am a big fan of his labouring background this guy was a living legend but ermm he died...... Ermmm yeh go john! and as im a keen cannibal i would love to have a bite ov him if he was still alive but now hes dead the meat doesnt taste as fresh...... TOD MCGRATH......

  • Louise Birkhead (3/13/2005 2:07:00 PM)

    JOHN CLARE FOR PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES! ! ! !

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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