He loved the brook's soft sound, <br />The swallow swimming by. <br />He loved the daisy-covered ground, <br />The cloud-bedappled sky. <br />To him the dismal storm appeared <br />The very voice of God; <br />And when the evening rack was reared <br />Stood Moses with his rod. <br />And everything his eyes surveyed, <br />The insects in the brake, <br />Were creatures God Almighty made, <br />He loved them for His sake-- <br />A silent man in life's affairs, <br />A thinker from a boy, <br />A peasant in his daily cares, <br />A poet in his joy.<br /><br />John Clare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-peasant-poet/
