To John Clare

By John Clare 1793–1864 John Clare

Well, honest John, how fare you now at home?

The spring is come, and birds are building nests;

The old cock-robin to the sty is come,

With olive feathers and its ruddy breast;

And the old cock, with wattles and red comb,

Struts with the hens, and seems to like some best,

Then crows, and looks about for little crumbs,

Swept out by little folks an hour ago;

The pigs sleep in the sty; the bookman comes—

The little boy lets home-close nesting go,

And pockets tops and taws, where daisies blow,

To look at the new number just laid down,

With lots of pictures, and good stories too,

And Jack the Giant-killer's high renown.

Biography

John Clare was born into a peasant family in Helpston, England. Although he was the son of illiterate parents, Clare received some formal schooling. While earning money through such manual labor as ploughing and threshing, he published several volumes of poetry, including Poems Descriptive of Rural Life and Scenery. After suffering from delusions, Clare was admitted to an insane asylum where he spent the final 20 years of his life.

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