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John Clare Quotes

John Clare

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He could not die when trees were green, for he loved the time too well.
- John Clare
Collection: Poetry

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If life had a second edition, how I would correct the proofs.
- John Clare
Collection: Life

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I am gennerally understood tho I do not use that awkward squad of pointings called commas colons semicolons etc.
- John Clare

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My fears are agitated to an extreme degree and the dread of death involves me in a stupor of chilling indisposition.
- John Clare

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Still, I have been no one's enemy but my own. My easy nature, either in drinking or anything else, was always ready to submit to persuasions of profligate companions, who often led me into snares.
- John Clare

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The best way to avoid a bad action is by doing a good one, for there is no difficulty in the world like that of trying to do nothing.
- John Clare

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I'm John Clare now. I was Byron and Shakespeare formerly.
- John Clare

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And all the charms of face or voice Which I in others see, Are but the recollected choice Of what I feel for thee.
- John Clare

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I am, as far as my politics reaches, 'King and Country' - no 'Innovations in Religion and Government' say I.
- John Clare

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I had a variety of minds about me and all of them unsettled.
- John Clare

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Love lives with Nature, not with lust. Go find her in the flowers.
- John Clare
Collection: Flower

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I found the poems in the fields And only wrote them down
- John Clare
Collection: Fields

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Summer is a prodigal of joy. The grass Swarms with delighted insects as I pass, And crowds of grasshoppers at every stride Jump out all ways with happiness their guide; And from my brushing feet moths flit away In safer places to pursue their play. In crowds they start. I marvel, well I may, To see such worlds of insects in the way, And more to see each thing, however small, Sharing joy's bounty that belongs to all. And here I gather, by the world forgot, Harvests of comfort from their happy mood, Feeling God's blessing dwells in every spot And nothing lives but owes him gratitude.
- John Clare
Collection: Summer

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The present is the funeral of the past, And man the living sepulchre of life.
- John Clare
Collection: Past

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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
Collection: Beautiful

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And what is Life? - An hour-glass on the run
- John Clare
Collection: Running

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I ne'er was struck before that hour with love so sudden and so sweet. Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower and stole my heart away complete
- John Clare
Collection: Romantic

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Burning hot is the ground, liquid gold is the air; Whoever looks round sees Eternity there.
- John Clare
Collection: Air

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I long for scenes where man has never trod;... There to abide with my Creator, God.
- John Clare
Collection: Men

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I never saw so sweet a face. As that I stood before. My heart has left it dwelling place ... and can return no more.
- John Clare
Collection: Love

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Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rude / And flew to the silence of sweet solitude.
- John Clare
Collection: Sweet

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I long for scenes where man has never trod; A place where woman never smil'd or wept; There to abide with my creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept: Untroubling and untroubled where I lie; The grass below--above the vaulted sky.
- John Clare
Collection: Lying

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Wildness is my suiting scene.
- John Clare
Collection: Nature

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Ah, words are poor receipts for what time hath stole away.
- John Clare
Collection: Poor

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He could not die when the trees were green, For he loved the time too well.
- John Clare
Collection: Time

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Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life or joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems; And e'en the dearest--that I love the best-- Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest.
- John Clare
Collection: Dream

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I am the self-consumer of my woes.
- John Clare
Collection: Self

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Old April wanes, and her last dewy morn Her death-bed steeps in tears; to hail the May New blooming blossoms neath the sun are born, And all poor April's charms are swept away.
- John Clare
Collection: Tears

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To-morrow comes, true copy of to-day,And empty shadow of what is to be;Yet cheated Hope on future still depends,And ends but only when our being ends.
- John Clare
Collection: Shadow

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Now musing o'er the changing scene Farmers behind the tavern screen Collect; with elbows idly press'd On hob, reclines the corner's guest, Reading the news to mark again The bankrupt lists or price of grain. Puffing the while his red-tipt pipe He dreams o'er troubles nearly ripe, Yet, winter's leisure to regale, Hopes better times, and sips his ale.
- John Clare
Collection: Dream

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I am: yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost; I am the self-consumer of my woes, They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost; And yet I am, and live with shadows tost.
- John Clare
Collection: Memories

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I live here among the ignorant like a lost man in fact like one whom the rest seems careless of having anything to do with — they hardly dare talk in my company for fear I shoud mention them in my writings & I find more pleasure in wandering the fields then in mixing among my silent neighbours who are insensible of everything but toiling & talking of it & that to no purpose.
- John Clare
Collection: Writing

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So dull and dark are the November days. The lazy mist high up the evening curled, And now the morn quite hides in smoke and haze; The place we occupy seems all the world.
- John Clare
Collection: Dark

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Tasteful illumination of the night, Bright scattered, twinkling star of spangled earth.
- John Clare
Collection: Stars

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Forgive me if, in friendship’s way, I offer thee a wreath of May.... [N]ourished by the dews of heaven.... So I have Ivy placed between, To prove that worth is ever green. The little blue Forget-me-not... Spring’s messenger in every spot, Smiling on all—"Remember me!
- John Clare
Collection: Spring

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I was Byron and Shakespeare formerly.
- John Clare
Collection: Byron

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This world has suns, but they are overcast;This world has sweets, but they're of ling'ring bloom;Life still expects, and empty falls at last;Warm Hope on tiptoe drops into the tomb.
- John Clare
Collection: Sweet

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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.
- John Clare
Collection: Song

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When trouble haunts me, need I sigh?No, rather smile away despair
- John Clare
Collection: Despair

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I lost the love of heaven above I spurned the lust of earth below I felt the sweets of fancied love And hell itself my only foe.
- John Clare
Collection: Sweet