[Author List]  [Home]



John Clare


Black absence hides upon the past,

I quite forget thy face;

And memory like the angry blast

Will love's last smile erase.

I try to think of what has been,

But all is blank to me;

And other faces pass between

My early love and thee.

I try to trace thy memory now,

And only find thy name;

Those inky lashes on thy brow,

Black hair and eyes the same;

Thy round pale face of snowy dyes,

There's nothing paints thee there.

A darkness comes before my eyes

For nothing seems so fair.

I knew thy name so sweet and young;

'Twas music to my ears,

A silent word upon my tongue,

A hidden thought for years.

Dark hair and lashes swarthy too,

Arched on thy forehead pale:

All else is vanished from my view

Like voices on the gale.


[Back to list of Clare's poems]

[Author List] [Home]