(Source: shetakesflight)
(Source: realityandwhimsy)
(Source: acid-rainbow)
A Thunderstorm in Town
She wore a ‘terra-cotta’ dress,
And we stayed, because of the pelting storm,
Within the hansom’s dry recess,
Though the horse had stopped; yea, motionless
We sat on, snug and warm.
Then the downpour ceased, to my sharp sad pain,
And the glass that had screened our forms before
Flew up, and out she sprang to her door:
I should have kissed her if the rain
Had lasted a minute more.
A Spring Morning
The spring comes in with all her hues and smells,
In freshness breathing over hills and dells;
O’er woods where May her gorgeous drapery flings,
And mead washed fragrant by their laughing springs.
Fresh are new opened flowers, untouched and free
From the bold rifling of the amorous bee.
The happy time of singing birds is come,
And Love’s lone pilgrimage now finds a home;
Among the mossy oaks now coos the dove,
And the hoarse crow finds softer notes to love.
The foxes play around their dens, and bark
In joy’s excess, ‘mid woodland shadows dark.
The flowers join lips below;the leaves above;
And every sound that meets the ear is Love.
John Clare
(Source: everywhere-else-but-not-here)








