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John Clare - Thou Flower Of Summer
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When in summer thou walkest
        In the meads by the river,
      And to thyself talkest,
        Dost thou think of one ever--
      A lost and a lorn one
        That adores thee and loves thee?
      And when happy morn`s gone,
        And nature`s calm moves thee,
Leaving thee to thy sleep like an angel at rest,
Does the one who adores thee still live in thy breast?

      Does nature eer give thee
        Love`s past happy vision,
      And wrap thee and leave thee
        In fancies elysian?
      Thy beauty I clung to,
        As leaves to the tree;
      When thou fair and young too
        Looked lightly on me,
Till love came upon thee like the sun to the west
And shed its perfuming and bloom on thy breast.
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