John Clare - Lies Quotes

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Language has not the power to
speak what love indites:
The soul lies buried
in the ink that writes.

John Clare

In politics and politicians' lies
The modern farmer waxes wondrous wise;

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

I hid my love when young till I
Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly;
I hid my love to my despite
Till I could not bear to look at light:
I dare not gaze upon her face
But left her memory in each place;
Where eer I saw a wild flower lie
I kissed and bade my love good bye.

John Clare

I long for scenes where man hath never trod
A place where woman never smiled or wept
There to abide with my Creator God
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below, above, the vaulted sky.

John Clare

Till kicked and torn and beaten out he lies
And leaves his hold and cackles, groans, and dies.

John Clare