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Poem by John Clare


Evening


'Tis evening; the black snail has got on his track,
And gone to its nest is the wren,
And the packman snail, too, with his home on his back,
Clings to the bowed bents like a wen.

The shepherd has made a rude mark with his foot
Where his shadow reached when he first came,
And it just touched the tree where his secret love cut
Two letters that stand for love's name.

The evening comes in with the wishes of love,
And the shepherd he looks on the flowers,
And thinks who would praise the soft song of the dove,
And meet joy in these dew-falling hours.

For Nature is love, and finds haunts for true love,
Where nothing can hear or intrude;
It hides from the eagle and joins with the dove,
In beautiful green solitude. 



John Clare

Poem Theme: Evening

John Clare's other poems:
  1. Language Has Not the Power to Speak What Love Indites
  2. Wood Rides
  3. Wild Bees
  4. Peggy
  5. Farm Breakfast


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Percy Shelley Evening ("The sun is set; the swallows are asleep")
  • Charlotte Smith Evening ("OH! soothing hour, when glowing day")
  • Charles Mackay Evening ("Tis sweet at morn among the corn")
  • Joanna Baillie Evening ("HOW lovely, Evening, is thy parting smile!")
  • Robert Anderson Evening ("How sweet 'tis to rove at the close of the day")
  • Thomas Aird Evening ("Those shouts proclaim the village school is out")
  • Oliver Holmes Evening ("DAY hath put on his jacket, and around")
  • Marjorie Pickthall Evening ("WHEN the white iris folds the drowsing bee")
  • Menella Smedley Evening ("It is the hour of evening")

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