But a mare
john clare
O ye who calls the wind to rhyme
The waters to flow in meter'd time
Suns to shine in light sublime
Moons to rise on hearts that pine
In dream the words you find
Rhymes to cause a world to mind
You awake to command the stars
Shoot o'er the lovers from far
Come nigh moon to the mourn
Sun give warmth to forlorn
O the heaven alas does not forbear
The dream was but a mare.
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