Poem by John Clare

On an Infant’s Grave

Beneath the sod where smiling creep
  The daisies into view,
The ashes of an Infant sleep,
  Whose soul’s as smiling too;
Ah! doubly happy, doubly blest,
  (Had I so happy been!)
Recall’d to heaven’s eternal rest,
  Ere it knew how to sin.

Thrice happy Infant! great the bliss
  Alone reserv’d for thee;
Such joy ’twas my sad fate to miss,
  And thy good luck to see;
For oh! when all must rise again,
  And sentence then shall have,
What crowds will wish with me, in vain,
  They’d fill’d an infant’s grave.

1. Rural Evening
2. The Thrush's Nest
3. The Woodman
4. Ballad
5. My Love, Thou Art a Nosegay Sweet

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