John Clare

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

John Clare Poems

41. Sudden Shower 4/13/2010
42. Letter In Verse 4/13/2010
43. The Beautiful Stranger 4/13/2010
44. The Gipsy's Camp 4/13/2010
45. The Sailor-Boy 4/13/2010
46. To John Milton 4/13/2010
47. Scandal 4/13/2010
48. To Anna Three Years Old 4/13/2010
49. Song #4 4/13/2010
50. Dyke Side 4/13/2010
51. Sport In The Meadows 4/13/2010
52. Rural Morning 4/13/2010
53. The Cross Roads; Or, The Haymaker's Story 4/13/2010
54. The Shepherds Calendar - November 4/13/2010
55. Turkeys 4/13/2010
56. Graves Of Infants 4/13/2010
57. In Hilly-Wood 4/13/2010
58. From 4/13/2010
59. Stonepit 4/13/2010
60. Farm Breakfast 4/13/2010
61. Grasshoppers 4/13/2010
62. The Shepherds Calendar - April 4/13/2010
63. Secret Love 4/13/2010
64. The Vanities Of Life 4/13/2010
65. The Stranger 4/13/2010
66. Earth's Eternity 4/13/2010
67. Fragment 4/13/2010
68. The Firetail's Nest 4/13/2010
69. The Shepherd's Calendar - October 4/13/2010
70. Quail's Nest 4/13/2010
71. Signs Of Winter 4/13/2010
72. The Swallow 4/13/2010
73. Snow Storm 4/13/2010
74. The Wood-Cutter's Night Song 4/13/2010
75. The Fens 4/13/2010
76. The Cellar Door 4/13/2010
77. Firwood 4/13/2010
78. Love Cannot Die 4/13/2010
79. Farewell And Defiance To Love 4/13/2010
80. The Shepherds Calendar - February - A Thaw 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 Thrush's Nest

Within a thick and spreading hawthorn bush
That overhung a molehill large and round,
I heard from morn to morn a merry thrush
Sing hymns to sunrise, and I drank the sound
With joy; and often, an intruding guest,
I watched her secret toil from day to day -
How true she warped the moss to form a nest,
And modelled it within with wood and clay;
And by and by, like heath-bells gilt with dew,

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