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.
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Comments2Wow, I remember this John Clare poem from my schooldays. It still had that peaceful, daydreamy vibe.. transportin' me right into the heart of nature with its vivid imagery. But hey, does anyone know what he meant by "an ashen stoven?" Not familiar with that term, must've forgot. Times like this I really miss my literature teacher. Great to read it again!
John Clare truly makes solitude sound sweet.