When in summer thou walkest <br />In the meads by the river, <br />And to thyself talkest, <br />Dost thou think of one ever-- <br />A lost and a lorn one <br />That adores thee and loves thee? <br />And when happy morn's gone, <br />And nature's calm moves thee, <br />Leaving thee to thy sleep like an angel at rest, <br />Does the one who adores thee still live in thy breast? <br /> <br />Does nature eer give thee <br />Love's past happy vision, <br />And wrap thee and leave thee <br />In fancies elysian? <br />Thy beauty I clung to, <br />As leaves to the tree; <br />When thou fair and young too <br />Looked lightly on me, <br />Till love came upon thee like the sun to the west <br />And shed its perfuming and bloom on thy breast.<br /><br />John Clare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thou-flower-of-summer/
