LiveJournal
The Spring, She Withholds
Monday, April 22nd, 2013To John Clare John Clare Well, honest John, how fare you now at home? The spring is come, and birds are building nests; The old cock-robin to the sty is come, With olive feathers and its ruddy breast; And the old cock, with wattles and red comb, Struts with the hens, and seems to like [...]