John Clare - Death Quotes

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Say maiden wilt thou go with me In this strange death of life-to-be To live in death and be the same Without this life or home or name At once to be and not to be

John Clare

Old 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.

John Clare

Loud 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.

John Clare

Pale death, the grand physician, cures all pain;
The dead rest well who lived for joys in vain.

John Clare

I 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 vanis in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost:
And yet I am, and live with shadows tost

John Clare