Friday, May 7, 2010


Here sparrows build upon the trees,
And stockdove hides her nest;
The leaves are winnowed by the breeze
Into a calmer rest;
The black-cap's song was very sweet,
That used the rose to kiss;
It made the Paradise complete:
My early home was this.
The red-breast from the sweetbriar bush
Dropt down to pick the worm;
On the horse-chestnut sang the thrush,
O'er the house where I was born;
The moonlight, like a shower of pearls,
Fell o'er this "bower of bliss,"
And on the bench sat boys and girls:
My early home was this.
The old house stooped just like a cave,
Thatched o'er with mosses green;
Winter around the walls would rave,
But all was calm within;
The bees are here all green agen,
Here bees and flowers still kiss,
But flowers and trees seemed sweeter then:
My early home was this.
John Clare


  1. Lovely poem; lovely pictures!!!

    You know, I kept staring at that picture of just the children's legs and feet and couldn't quite figure out why I couldn't focus my eyes properly on Rowan's right leg. At first, I thought that he had a scratch running down his ankle until I noticed his foot behind his other leg, which means that the "ankle/leg" I was originally staring at, was, in fact, the leg of the bench!!

    I know, I know......Aunt Karen is losing it again!

    Love and hugs,

  2. It totally looks like that (once pointed out by a very creative Aunt). Thanks for the laugh!



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