One gloomy eve I roam’d about
John Clare
1793 to 1864
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One gloomy eve I roam’d about
’Neath Oxey’s hazel bowers,
While timid hares were darting out,
To crop the flowers;
And soothing was the scene to me,
Right was my soul,
My breast was calm as summer’s
When waves forget to roll.
But short was even’s smile,
My startled soul to charm,
When Nelly lightly the stile,
With milk-pail on her arm:
One careless on me she flung,
As bright as parting day:
like a hawk from covert sprung,
It pounc’d my away.