“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 vanish in oblivious host, Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled thr...”

John Clare

“I found the poems in the fields,And only wrote them down.”

John Clare

“O words are poor receipts for what time hath stole away”

John Clare

“And what is Life? — An hour-glass on the run,”

John Clare

“And don't despise your betters cause they're old.”

John Clare