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John Clare Quotes (1793-1864)
Poet
About John Clare
John Clare (13 July 1793 β 20 May 1864) was an English poet, commonly known as "the Northamptonshire Peasant Poet". The son of a farm labourer, he was born at Helpston near Peterborough.
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Explore our curated collection of the most famous and impactful John Clare quotes.
βThrow not my words away, as many do;
They're gold in value, though they're cheap to you.β
They're gold in value, though they're cheap to you.β
βArts may ply fantastic anatomy but nature is always herself in her wildest moods of extravagence.β
βSuperstition lives longer than books, it is engraved on the human mind 'til it becomes a part of its existence.β
βAnd what's more wonderful, when big loads foil
One ant or two to carry, quickly then
A swarm flock round to help their fellow-men.β
One ant or two to carry, quickly then
A swarm flock round to help their fellow-men.β
βThe ivyed oaks dark shadow falls
Oft picking up with wondering gaze
Some little thing of other days
Saved from the wreck of time.β
Oft picking up with wondering gaze
Some little thing of other days
Saved from the wreck of time.β
βPopularity is a hasty and busy talker, she catches hold of topics and offers them to fame without giving herself time to reflect whether they are true or false.β
βI love to see the old heath's withered brake
Mingle its crimpled leaves with furze and ling,
While the old heron from the lonely lake
Starts slow and flaps its melancholy wing
β
Mingle its crimpled leaves with furze and ling,
While the old heron from the lonely lake
Starts slow and flaps its melancholy wing
β
βO how I feel, just as I pluck the flower
And stick it to my breast β words can't reveal;
But there are souls that in this lovely hour
Know all I mean, and feel whate'er I feel.β
And stick it to my breast β words can't reveal;
But there are souls that in this lovely hour
Know all I mean, and feel whate'er I feel.β
βI am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost:
And yet I am, and live with shadows tostβ
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost:
And yet I am, and live with shadows tostβ
βI hid my love in field and town
Till een the breeze would knock me down,
The bees seemed singing ballads oer,
The fly's bass turned a lion's roar;
And even silence found a tongue,
To haunt me all the summer long;
The riddle nature could not prove
Was nothing else but secret love.β
Till een the breeze would knock me down,
The bees seemed singing ballads oer,
The fly's bass turned a lion's roar;
And even silence found a tongue,
To haunt me all the summer long;
The riddle nature could not prove
Was nothing else but secret love.β
βIn politics and politicians' lies
The modern farmer waxes wondrous wise;
Opinionates with wisdom all compact,
And een could tell a nation how to act;
Throws light on darkness with excessive skill,
Knows who acts well and whose designs are ill,
Proves half the members nought but bribery's tools,
And calls the past a dull dark age of fools.β
The modern farmer waxes wondrous wise;
Opinionates with wisdom all compact,
And een could tell a nation how to act;
Throws light on darkness with excessive skill,
Knows who acts well and whose designs are ill,
Proves half the members nought but bribery's tools,
And calls the past a dull dark age of fools.β
John Clare Quotes by Topic
Find exactly what you are looking for by browsing this categorized list of John Clare quotes by topic.
John Clare on Magpie 2 quotes
βThe milkmaid singing leaves her bed, As glad as happy thoughts can be, While magpies chatter oβer her head As jocund in the change as she:β
John Clare on Romani people
βA quiet, pilfering, unprotected race.β
John Clare on Mastiff
John Clare on Glowworms
βTasteful illumination of the night, Bright scattered, twinkling star of spangled earth.β
John Clare on Insect suffering
John Clare on Philosophical pessimism
John Clare on April
βOld April wanes, and her last dewy morn Her death-bed steeps in tears; to hail the May New blooming blossoms 'neath the sun are born, And all poor April's charms are swept away.β
John Clare on Trees
βOld noted oak! I saw thee in a mood Of vague indifference; and yet with me Thy memory, like thy fate, hath lingering stood For years, thou hermit, in the lonely sea Of grass that waves around thee!β
John Clare on Hornbook
John Clare on Insect
βLoud is the summer's busy song The smallest breeze can find a tongue, While insects of each tiny size Grow teasing with their melodies, Till noon burns with its blistering breath Around, and day lies still as death.β
John Clare on July
βLoud is the summer's busy song The smallest breeze can find a tongue, While insects of each tiny size Grow teasing with their melodies, Till noon burns with its blistering breath Around, and day lies still as death.β
About John Clare
John Clare (13 July 1793 β 20 May 1864) was an English poet, commonly known as "the Northamptonshire Peasant Poet". The son of a farm labourer, he was born at Helpston near Peterborough.