How beautiful the summer night <br />When birds roost on the mossy tree, <br />When moon and stars are shining bright <br />And home has gone the weary bee! <br />Then Mary Bayfield seeks the glen, <br />The white hawthorn and grey oak tree, <br />And nought but heaven can tell me then <br />How dear thy beauty is to me. <br /> <br />Dear is the dewdrop to the flower, <br />The old wall to the weary bee, <br />And silence to the evening hour, <br />And ivy to the stooping tree. <br />Dearer than these, than all beside, <br />Than blossoms to the moss-rose tree, <br />The maid who wanders by my side-- <br />Sweet Mary Bayfield is to me. <br /> <br />Sweet is the moonlight on the tree, <br />The stars above the glassy lake, <br />That from the bottom look at me <br />Through shadows of the crimping brake. <br />Such are sweet things--but sweeter still <br />Than these and all beside I see <br />The maid whose look my heart can thrill, <br />My Mary Bayfield's look to me. <br /> <br />O Mary with the dark brown hair, <br />The rosy cheek, the beaming eye, <br />I would thy shade were ever near; <br />Then would I never grieve or sigh. <br />I love thee, Mary dearly love-- <br />There's nought so fair on earth I see, <br />There's nought so dear in heaven above, <br />As Mary Bayfield is to me.<br /><br />John Clare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mary-bayfield/
