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John Clare (Джон Клэр)


Autumn


The thistledown's flying, though the winds are all still,
On the green grass now lying, now mounting the hill,
The spring from the fountain now boils like a pot;
Through stones past the counting it bubbles red-hot.

The ground parched and cracked is like overbaked bread,
The greensward all wracked is, bents dried up and dead.
The fallow fields glitter like water indeed,
And gossamers twitter, flung from weed unto weed.

Hill-tops like hot iron glitter bright in the sun,
And the rivers we're eying burn to gold as they run;
Burning hot is the ground, liquid gold is the air;
Whoever looks round sees Eternity there. 



John Clare's other poems:
  1. Dyke Side
  2. Letter In Verse
  3. Turkeys
  4. The Maid Of Jerusalem
  5. The Universal Epitaph


Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • Samuel Johnson (Сэмюэл Джонсон) Autumn ("Alas! with swift and silent pace")
  • William Morris (Уильям Моррис) Autumn ("Laden Autumn here I stand")
  • Anna Barbauld (Анна-Летиция Барбо) Autumn ("Farewell the softer hours, Spring's opening blush")
  • Philip Bailey (Филип Бэйли) Autumn ("Tis Autumn--and the winds are high")
  • Francis Ledwidge (Фрэнсис Ледвидж) Autumn ("Now leafy winds are blowing cold")
  • Thomas Nashe (Томас Нэш) Autumn ("Autumn hath all the summer's fruitful treasure")
  • Walter Landor (Уолтер Лэндор) Autumn ("Mild is the parting year, and sweet")
  • Alexander Posey (Александр Поузи) Autumn ("IN the dreamy silence")
  • Lydia Sigourney (Лидия Сигурни) Autumn ("Tree! why hast thou doffed thy mantle of green")

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