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John Clare - Clock-O`-Clay
Work rating: Medium

In the cowslip pips I lie,
Hidden from the buzzing fly,
While green grass beneath me lies,
Pearled with dew like fishes` eyes,
Here I lie, a clock-o`-clay,
Waiting for the time o` day.

While the forest quakes surprise,
And the wild wind sobs and sighs,
My home rocks as like to fall,
On its pillar green and tall;
When the pattering rain drives by
Clock-o`-clay keeps warm and dry.

Day by day and night by night,
All the week I hide from sight;
In the cowslip pips I lie,
In the rain still warm and dry;
Day and night and night and day,
Red, black-spotted clock-o`-clay.

My home shakes in wind and showers,
Pale green pillar topped with flowers,
Bending at the wild wind`s breath,
Till I touch the grass beneath;
Here I live, lone clock-o`-clay,
Watching for the time of day.
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