The Poetry Corner

Summer Tints.

By John Clare

How sweet I've wander'd bosom-deep in grain, When Summer's mellowing pencil sweeps his shade Of ripening tinges o'er the checquer'd plain: Light tawny oat-lands with a yellow blade; And bearded corn, like armies on parade; Beans lightly scorch'd, that still preserve their green; And nodding lands of wheat in bleachy brown; And streaking banks, where many a maid and clown Contrast a sweetness to the rural scene,-- Forming the little haycocks up and down: While o'er the face of nature softly swept The ling'ring wind, mixing the brown and green So sweet, that shepherds from their bowers have crept, And stood delighted musing o'er the scene.