I
Am
by John Clare
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I am: yet what I am none cares or
knows, |
My friends forsake
me like a memory lost; |
I am the self-consumer of my
woes, |
They rise and vanish
in oblivious host, |
Like shades in love and death's
oblivion lost; |
And yet I am, and live with
shadows tost
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Into the nothingness of scorn and
noise, |
Into the living sea
of waking dreams, |
Where there is neither sense of
life nor joys, |
But the vast
shipwreck of my life's esteems; |
And e'en the dearest - that I
loved the best - |
Are strange - nay, rather
stranger than the rest.
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I long for scenes where man has
never trod, |
A place where woman
never smiled or wept; |
There to abide with my Creator,
God, |
And sleep as I in
childhood sweetly slept: |
Untroubling and untroubled where
I lie, |
The grass below - above the
vaulted sky.
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John
Clare | Classic
Poems |
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[ I Am ] [ Summer Moods ] [ What is Life? ] |
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