by john clare
Day unto day I have chased you
Into the night by the candled light
Keeping close to your sporadic flight
Dew of dawn dropping from you.
Can I but gain some upper hand
Know your colors beyond the dream
Find rhythm with your gentle wing
Upon the bloom at last land?
But I must evade your heavy clutch
My kind never meant to entwine
Perhaps had you chased before time
Took the wings you miss so much.
Lament the aubade of the gentle dawn
The dew has dropped and she is gone.
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