Wednesday, November 27, 2013

a copse in winter

Shades tho yere leafless save the bramble spear
Whose weather beaten leaves of purple stain
In hardy stubbornness cling all the year
To their old thorns till spring buds new again
Shades still I love ye better then the plain
For here I find the earliest flowers that blow
While on the bear blea bank does yet remain
Old winter traces little heaps of snow
Beneath your ashen roots primroses grow
From dead grass tufts and matted moss once more
Sweet beds of vi’lets dare again be seen
In their deep purple pride and sweet displayd
The crow flowers creeping from the naked green
Adds early beautys to thy sheltering shade
-john clare

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