Come we to the summer, to the summer we will come,
For the woods are full of bluebells and the hedges full of bloom,
And the crow is on the oak a-building of her nest,
And love is burning diamonds in my true lover's breast;

by John Clare Click to read full poem

Comments (18)

what time was it written in?
Ho-hum; this poem suffers from convention. Little wonder he went mad.
Ho-Hum. This poet is overwhelmed by convention. Little wonder he went mad. beautiful and so poetic.....this is truly a classic poem...
Start working at home with Google! It's by-far the best job Ive had. Last Monday I got a new Alfa Romeo from bringing in $7778. I started this 9 months ago and practically straight away started making more than $83 per hour. I work through this link, http: //
He seems torn between his lover's breasts and his meat; what a conundrum!
Brilliant! I find in Clare the pure spring of genius. An education might have ruined this crystal view. These are the words of an angel who has lived all his life in heaven. Yet Clare had the humblest beginnings.
This is just poetic gorgeousness and the rhyme is flawless. A lavish of love! To me this seems and it maybe just because of the time difference, how the language sits but it seems to me that this is reminiscent of a love written much later and thinking back to the glory of love and summer, just a guess. I wouldn't be surprised if it was written midwinter either as it is written very romantically, as we would say, with rose tinted glasses. Unusual that he starts with summer then goes back to spring.... perhaps a reflection fo continuum of love as seasons just stroll by.......
A dream like mid summer time poem telling about the lover having relief at last on the bosom of his lady love is simple and easy to read. It is quite enjoyable too to be transported to that situation!
will look upon her face, I will in her beauty rest, And lay my aching weariness upon her lovely breast. WOW love this poem, every word is so beautiful
Words have that feeling of life, promise, hope of tomorrow and family, for the summer season of a persons life.
His heart is a blue print of love and it turned black for a while and he painted crows and blueblees from his own colour. Change in season.. describes well about seasonal love........ Gayathri.
thats beautiful and i dont usual like that romance stuff
sweet lovely poem...
Marvelous, what a depiction of a summer interlude! Erotic but without the direct sensuality!
This poem seems almost kinky to me. If this is how you spend your summers... congradulations! Very goof i must say... dont we all wish to experiance passion?
this a good poem i like it a lot keep up the good work