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The Dying Child
Written by John Clare (13 July 1793–20 May 1864) who was an English poet. The son of a farm labourer, he became known for his celebrations of the English countryside. He is one of my favourite poets but this poem is hard for me to read.
BY JOHN CLARE
He could not die when trees were green,
For he loved the time too well.
His little hands, when flowers were seen,
Were held for the bluebell,
As he was carried o’er the green.
His eye glanced at the white-nosed bee;
He knew those children of the spring:
When he was well and on the lea
He held one in his hands to sing,
Which filled his heart with glee.
Infants, the children of the spring!
How can an infant die
When butterflies are on the wing,
Green grass, and such a sky?
How can they die at spring?
He held his hands for daisies white,
And then for violets blue,
And took them all to bed at night
That in the green fields grew,
