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John Clare - AutumnJohn Clare - Autumn
Work rating: Medium


I love the fitful gust that shakes   The casement all the day, And from the glossy elm tree takes   The faded leaves away, Twirling them by the window pane With thousand others down the lane. I love to see the shaking twig   Dance till the shut of eve, The sparrow on the cottage rig,   Whose chirp would make believe That Spring was just now flirting by In Summer`s lap with flowers to lie. I love to see the cottage smoke   Curl upwards through the trees, The pigeons nestled round the cote   On November days like these; The cock upon the dunghill crowing, The mill sails on the heath a-going. The feather from the raven`s breast   Falls on the stubble lea, The acorns near the old crow`s nest   Drop pattering down the tree; The grunting pigs, that wait for all, Scramble and hurry where they fall.
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