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John Clare - Patty of the Vale
Work rating: Low

"A weedling child on lonely lea
My evening rambles chanced to see;
And much the weedling tempted me
To crop its tender flower;

Exposed to wind and heavy rain,
It`s head bow`d lowly on the plain;
Hand silently it seem`d in pain
Of life`s endanger`d hour.

And and wilt thou bid my bloom decay,
And crop my flower, and me betray,
And cast my injured sweets away?-
Its silence seemly sigh`d

`A moment`s idol of thy mind!
And is a stranger so unkind
to leave the shameful root behind,
Bereft of all its pride?`

And so it seemly did complain;
And beating fell the heavy rain;
And low it droop`d upon the plain,
To fate resign`d to fall:

My heart did melt at its decline,
And ` Come,` said I, ` thou gem divine,
My fate shall stand the storm with thine;`
So took the root and all."
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