Young Jenny by John Clare read by Paula Araujo

Young JennyThe cockchafer hums down the rut-rifted laneWhere the wild roses hang and the woodbines entwine,And the shrill squeaking bat makes his circles againRound the side of the tavern close by the sign.The sun is gone down like a wearisome queen,In curtains the richest that ever were seen.The dew falls on flowers in a mist of small rain,And, beating the hedges, low fly the barn owls;The moon with her horns is just peeping again,And deep in the forest the dog-badger howls;In best bib and tucker then wanders my JaneBy the side of the woodbines which grow in the lane.On a sweet eventide I walk by her side;In green hoods the daisies have shut up their eyes.Young Jenny is handsome without any pride;Her eyes (O how bright!) have the hue of the skies.O 'tis pleasant to walk by the side of my JaneAt the close of the day, down the mossy green lane.We stand by the brook, by the gate, and the stile,While the even star hangs out his lamp in the sky;And on her calm face dwells a sweet sunny smile,While her soul fondly speaks through the light of her eye.Sweet are the moments while waiting for Jane;'T is her footsteps I hear coming down the green lane.Find us online at thatsnotcanon.com/epigraphySubscribe to us on ITUNES, STITCHER, SPOTIFY, RADIOPUBLIC or your podcatcher of choice.Find us on FACEBOOK, TWITTER or INSTAGRAM. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.