Here morning in the ploughman's songs is met <br />Ere yet one footstep shows in all the sky, <br />And twilight in the east, a doubt as yet, <br />Shows not her sleeve of grey to know her bye. <br />Woke early, I arose and thought that first <br />In winter time of all the world was I. <br />The old owls might have hallooed if they durst, <br />But joy just then was up and whistled bye <br />A merry tune which I had known full long, <br />But could not to my memory wake it back, <br />Until the ploughman changed it to the song. <br />O happiness, how simple is thy track. <br />--Tinged like the willow shoots, the east's young brow <br />Glows red and finds thee singing at the plough.<br /><br />John Clare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ploughman-singing/
