Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TO THE SNIPE, by JOHN CLARE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Lover of swamps Last Line: A dweller and a joy Subject(s): Birds' Nests; Snipes | ||||||||
Lover of swamps The quagmire over grown With hassock tufts of sedge -- where fear encamps Around thy home alone The trembling grass Quakes from the human foot Nor bears the weight of man to let him pass Where thou alone and mute Sittest at rest In safety neath the clump Of hugh flag forrest that thy haunts invest Or some old sallow stump Thriving on seams That tiney island swell Just hilling from the mud and rancid streams Suiting thy nature well For here thy bill Suited by wisdom good Of rude unseemly length doth delve and drill The gelid mass for food And here mayhap When summer suns hath drest The moors rude desolate and spungy lap May hide thy mystic nest Mystic indeed For isles that ocean make Are scarcely more secure for birds to build Then this flag hidden lake Boys thread the woods To their remotest shades But in these marshy flats these stagnant floods Security pervades From year to year Places untrodden lie Where man nor boy nor stock hath ventured near -- Nought gazed on but the sky And fowl that dread The Every breath of man Hiding in spots that never knew his tread A wild and timid clan Wigeon and teal And wild duck -- restless lot That from mans dreaded sight will ever steal To the most dreary spot Here tempests howl Around each flaggy plot Where they who dread mans sight the water fowl Hide and are frighted not Tis power divine That heartens them to brave The roughest tempest and at ease recline On marshes or the wave Yet instinct knows Not safetys bounds -- to shun The firmer ground where sculking fowler goes With searching dogs and gun By tepid springs Scarcely one stride accross Though brambles from its edge a shelter flings Thy safety is at loss And never chuse The little sinky foss Streaking the moores whence spa-red waters spews From pudges fringed with moss Free booters there Intent to kill and slay Startle with cracking guns the trepid air And dogs thy haunts betray From dangers reach Here thou art safe to roam Far as these washy flag grown marshes stretch A still and quiet home In these thy haunts Ive gleaned habitual love From the vague world where pride and folly taunts I muse and look above Thy solitudes The unbounded heaven esteems And here my heart warms into higher moods And dignifying dreams I see the sky Smile on the meanest spot Giving to all that creep or walk or flye A calm and cordial lot Thine teaches me Right feelings to employ That in the dreariest places peace will be A dweller and a joy | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LORD, HEAR MY PRAYER; A PARAPHRASE OF THE 102ND PSALM by JOHN CLARE SCHOOLBOYS IN WINTER by JOHN CLARE |
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