Ballad. "Winter's Gone, The Summer Breezes"

A poem by John Clare

Winter's gone, the summer breezes
Breathe the shepherd's joys again,
Village scene no longer pleases,
Pleasures meet upon the plain;
Snows are fled that hung the bowers,
Buds to blossoms softly steal,
Winter's rudeness melts in flowers:--
Charmer, leave thy spinning wheel,
And tend the sheep with me.

Careless here shall pleasures lull thee,
From domestic troubles free;
Rushes for thy couch I'll pull thee,
In the shade thy seat shall be;
All the flower-buds will I get
Spring's first sunbeams do unseal,
Primrose, cowslip, violet:--
Charmer, leave thy spinning wheel,
And tend the sheep with me.

Cast away thy "twilly willy,"
Winter's warm protecting gown,
Storms no longer blow to chill thee;
Come with mantle loosely thrown,
Garments, light as gale's embraces,
That thy lovely shape reveal;
Put thou on thy airy dresses:--
Charmer, leave thy spinning wheel,
And tend the sheep with me.

Sweet to sit where brooks are flowing,
Pleasant spreads the gentle heat,
On the green's lap thyme is growing,
Every molehill forms a seat:
Fear not suns 'cause thou'rt so fair,
In the thorn-bower we'll conceal;
Ne'er a sunbeam pierces there:--
Charmer, leave thy spinning wheel,
And tend the sheep with me.

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