In Hilly-wood

John Clare

How sweet to be thus nestling deep in boughs,
Upon an ashen stoven pillowing me;
Faintly are heard the ploughmen at their ploughs,
But not an eye can find its way to see.
The sunbeams scarce molest me with a smile,
So thick the leafy armies gather round;
And where they do, the breeze blows cool the while,
Their leafy shadows dancing on the ground.
Full many a flower, too, wishing to be seen,
Perks up its head the hiding grass between.—
In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be;
Where all the noises, that on peace intrude,
Come from the chittering cricket, bird, and bee,
Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude.

Next 10 Poems

• John Clare : Insects
• John Clare : Love Lives Beyond The Tomb
• John Clare : May
• John Clare : November
• John Clare : Remembrances
• John Clare : Song's Eternity
• John Clare : Summer
• John Clare : Summer Evening
• John Clare : Summer Images
• John Clare : The Cuckoo

Previous 10 Poems

• John Clare : I Hid My Love
• John Clare : I Am
• John Clare : Hen's Nest
• John Clare : Farewell
• John Clare : Evening Primrose
• John Clare : Evening
• John Clare : Early Nightingale
• John Clare : Clock-o'-clay
• John Clare : Christmass
• John Clare : Badger