John Clare 1793 - 1864.
To A Fallen Elm
John Clare
Old Elm that murmured in our chimney top The sweetest anthem autumn ever made And into mellow whispering
calms would drop When showers fell on thy many coloured shade And when dark tempests mimic thunder made While darkness
came as it would strangle light With the black tempest of a winter night That rocked thee like a cradle to thy root How
did I love to hear the winds upbraid Thy strength without while all within was mute It seasoned comfort to our hearts
desire We felt thy kind protection like a friend And pitched our chairs up closer to the fire Enjoying comforts that
was was never penned
Old favourite tree thoust seen times changes lower But change till now did never come to thee For
time beheld thee as his sacred dower And nature claimed thee her domestic tree Storms came and shook thee with aliving
power Yet stedfast to thy home thy roots hath been Summers of thirst parched round thy homely bower Till earth grew
iron—still thy leaves was green The children sought thee in thy summer shade And made their play house rings of
sticks and stone The mavis sang and felt himself alone While in they leaves his early nest was made And I did feel
his happiness mine own Nought heeding that our friendship was betrayed
Friend not inanimate—tho stocks and
stones There are and many cloathed in flesh and bones Thou ownd a lnaguage by which hearts are stirred Deeper than
by the attribute of words Thine spoke a feeling known in every tongue Language of pity and the force of wrong What
cant assumes what hypocrites may dare Speaks home to truth and shows it what they are
I see a picture that thy fate
displays And learn a lesson from thy destiny Self interest saw thee stand in freedoms ways So thy old shadow must
a tyrant be Thoust heard the knave abusing those in power Bawl freedom loud and then oppress the free Thoust sheltered
hypocrites in many an hour That when in power would never shelter thee Thoust heard the knave supply his canting powers With
wrongs illusions when he wanted friends That bawled for shelter when he lived in showers And when clouds vanished made
thy shade ammends With axe at root he felled thee to the ground And barked of freedom—O I hate that sound
It
grows the cant terms of enslaving tools To wrong another by the name of right It grows a liscence with oer bearing fools To
cheat plain honesty by force of might Thus came enclosure—ruin was her guide But freedoms clapping hands enjoyed
the sight Tho comforts cottage soon was thrust aside And workhouse prisons raised upon the scite Een natures dwelling
far away from men The common heath became the spoilers prey The rabbit had not where to make his den And labours
only cow was drove away No matter—wrong was right and right was wrong And freedoms brawl was sanction to the song
Such
was thy ruin music making Elm The rights of freedom was to injure thine As thou wert served so would they overwhelm In
freedoms name the little so would they over whelm And these are knaves that brawl for better laws And cant of tyranny
in stronger powers Who glut their vile unsatiated maws And freedoms birthright from the weak devours
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Albino ALB007 (CD, UK, 1991) |
a review of a book originally
published in 1983
and reprinted in 2002.
from Rod Stradling at
Musical Traditions
the society was founded in
1981 to promote a wider
and deeper knowledge of
one of the great ages
of English poetry
the complete, unedited version of the
telling of the seasons of the year.
Clare's masterpiece
a website dedicated
to the birth place of
John Clare
to be found on the
Poet's Corner website
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