"blab" poems - Hello Poetry

How sweet and pleasant grows the way Through summer time again While Landrails call from day to day Amid the grass and grain We hear it in the weeding time When knee deep waves the corn We hear it in the summers prime Through meadows night and morn And now I hear it in the grass That grows as sweet again And let a minutes notice pass And now tis in the grain Tis like a fancy everywhere A sort of living doubt We know tis something but it neer Will blab the secret out If heard in close or meadow plots It flies if we pursue But follows if we notice not The close and meadow through Boys know the note of many a bird In their birdnesting bounds But when the landrails noise is heard They wonder at the sounds They look in every tuft of grass Thats in their rambles met They peep in every bush they pass And none the wiser get And still they hear the craiking sound And still they wonder why It surely cant be under ground Nor is it in the sky And yet tis heard in every vale An undiscovered song And makes a pleasant wonder tale For all the summer long The shepherd whistles through his hands And starts with many a whoop His busy dog across the lands In hopes to fright it up Tis still a minutes length or more Till dogs are off and gone Then sings and louder than before But keeps the secret on Yet accident will often meet The nest within its way And weeders when they **** the wheat Discover where they lay And mowers on the meadow lea Chance on their noisy guest And wonder what the bird can be That lays without a nest In simple holes that birds will rake When dusting on the ground They drop their eggs of curious make Deep blotched and nearly round A mystery still to men and boys Who know not where they lay And guess it but a summer noise Among the meadow hay

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John Clare

The Landrail

How sweet and pleasant grows the way Through summer time again While Landrails call from day to day Amid the grass and grain We hear it in the weeding time When knee deep waves the corn We hear it in the summers prime Through meadows night and morn And now I hear it in the grass That grows as sweet again And let a minutes notice pass And now tis in the grain Tis like a fancy everywhere A sort of living doubt We know tis something but it neer Will blab the secret out If heard in close or meadow plots It flies if we pursue But follows if we notice not The close and meadow through Boys know the note of many a bird In their birdnesting bounds But when the landrails noise is heard They wonder at the sounds They look in every tuft of grass Thats in their rambles met They peep in every bush they pass And none the wiser get And still they hear the craiking sound And still they wonder why It surely cant be under ground Nor is it in the sky And yet tis heard in every vale An undiscovered song And makes a pleasant wonder tale For all the summer long The shepherd whistles through his hands And starts with many a whoop His busy dog across the lands In hopes to fright it up Tis still a minutes length or more Till dogs are off and gone Then sings and louder than before But keeps the secret on Yet accident will often meet The nest within its way And weeders when they **** the wheat Discover where they lay And mowers on the meadow lea Chance on their noisy guest And wonder what the bird can be That lays without a nest In simple holes that birds will rake When dusting on the ground They drop their eggs of curious make Deep blotched and nearly round A mystery still to men and boys Who know not where they lay And guess it but a summer noise Among the meadow hay