John Clare

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

The Instinct Of Hope

Poem by John Clare

Is there another world for this frail dust
To warm with life and be itself again?
Something about me daily speaks there must,
And why should instinct nourish hopes in vain?
'Tis nature's prophesy that such will be,
And everything seems struggling to explain
The close sealed volume of its mystery.
Time wandering onward keeps its usual pace
As seeming anxious of eternity,
To meet that calm and find a resting place.
E'en the small violet feels a future power
And waits each year renewing blooms to bring,
And surely man is no inferior flower
To die unworthy of a second spring?

Comments about The Instinct Of Hope by John Clare

  • laryana (12/27/2018 9:47:00 AM)

    what Ruby explained I didnt even know that people able to get paid $8501 in 4 weeks on the computer. did you read this web

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  • Bruian (4/12/2018 8:33:00 AM)

    it was supa epiccccccccccccccccccccccccccc(Report)Reply

    3 person liked.
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  • Ransome AdejugbeRansome Adejugbe (10/27/2015 2:51:00 PM)

    Great poem. Inspiring and making one to take the leap of faith and be hopeful.(Report)Reply

    5 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Gangadharan Nair Pulingat (3/11/2015 4:59:00 AM)

    A great enjoyment of hope this poem gives. likes it.(Report)Reply

    4 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
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Read poems about / on: future, flower, nature, spring, power, hope, world, time, life

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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