Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
Eternal Valentine
When roses fade and candles die,When years like rivers pass us by,The heart remembers, clear and kind,The love two souls once intertwined.No time can..
© Valentine's Day
The Gift of Love
No gold or diamond can compare,To gentle hearts that choose to care.Love is not bought, nor can it be sold,It shines in the warmth that never grows..
© Valentine's Day
Beyond the Roses
Beyond the roses, beyond the wine,Lies something deeper, pure, divine.It’s not in cards or gifts we send,But in the moments we defend.It’s in the..
© Valentine's Day
February Fourteenth
A day dressed in roses, in crimson and gold,Where stories of love through ages are told.The candles are burning, the hearts softly gleam,In laughter..
© Valentine's Day
The Language of Hearts
Love speaks softly, in whispers of care,In glances that linger, in moments we share.No letter, no word can ever define,The feeling that blooms on..
© Valentine's Day
Young Lambs
The spring is coming by a many signs;The trays are up, the hedges broken down,That fenced the haystack, and the remnant shinesLike some old antique..
© John Clare
Written In Northampton County Asylum
I am! yet what I am who cares, or knows?My friends forsake me like a memory lost.I am the self-consumer of my woes;They rise and vanish, an oblivious..
© John Clare
Wood Rides
Who hath not felt the influence that so calmsThe weary mind in summers sultry hoursWhen wandering thickest woods beneath the armsOf ancient oaks and..
© John Clare
Winter Walk
The holly bush, a sober lump of green,Shines through the leafless shrubs all brown and grey,And smiles at winter be it eer so keenWith all the leafy..
© John Clare
Wild Bees
These children of the sun which summer bringsAs pastoral minstrels in her merry trainPipe rustic ballads upon busy wingsAnd glad the cotters' quiet..
© John Clare
Where She Told Her Love
I saw her crop a roseRight early in the day,And I went to kiss the placeWhere she broke the rose awayAnd I saw the patten ringsWhere she o'er the..
© John Clare
What Is Life?
And what is Life? An hour-glass on the run,A mist retreating from the morning sun,A busy, bustling, still-repeated dream.Its length? A minute's..
© John Clare
Turkeys
The turkeys wade the close to catch the beesIn the old border full of maple treesAnd often lay away and breed and comeAnd bring a brood of chelping..
© John Clare
To Napoleon
The heroes of the present and the pastWere puny, vague, and nothingness to thee:Thou didst a span grasp mighty to the last,And strain for glory when..
© John Clare
To Mary
I sleep with thee, and wake with thee,And yet thou art not there;I fill my arms with thoughts of thee,And press the common air.Thy eyes are gazing..
© John Clare
To John Milton
_'From his honoured friend, William Davenant'_Poet of mighty power, I fainWould court the muse that honoured thee,And, like Elisha's spirit, gainA..
© John Clare
To John Clare
Well, honest John, how fare you now at home?The spring is come, and birds are building nests;The old cock-robin to the sty is come,With olive..
© John Clare
To Anna Three Years Old
My Anna, summer laughs in mirth,And we will of the party be,And leave the crickets in the hearthFor green fields' merry minstrelsy.I see thee now..
© John Clare
To A Fallen Elm
Old Elm that murmured in our chimney topThe sweetest anthem autumn ever madeAnd into mellow whispering calms would dropWhen showers fell on thy many..
© John Clare
Thou Flower Of Summer
When in summer thou walkestIn the meads by the river,And to thyself talkest,Dost thou think of one ever--A lost and a lorn oneThat adores thee and..
© John Clare
The Yellowhammer
When shall I see the white-thorn leaves agen,And yellowhammers gathering the dry bentsBy the dyke side, on stilly moor or fen,Feathered with love and..
© John Clare
The Wood-Cutter's Night Song
Welcome, red and roundy sun,Dropping lowly in the west;Now my hard day's work is done,I'm as happy as the best.Joyful are the thoughts of home,Now..
© John Clare
The Winter's Spring
The winter comes; I walk alone,I want no bird to sing;To those who keep their hearts their ownThe winter is the spring.No flowers to please--no bees..
© John Clare
The Winter's Come
Sweet chestnuts brown like soling leather turn;The larch trees, like the colour of the Sun;That paled sky in the Autumn seemed to burn,What a strange..
© John Clare
The Vixen
Among the taller wood with ivy hung,The old fox plays and dances round her young.She snuffs and barks if any passes byAnd swings her tail and turns..
© John Clare