Friday Poetry: First Love

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Autumn really is the most romantic time of year. There is something about the golden leaves and the sudden need for wearing coats and scarves. My husband and I first started going out in Autumn. I remember walking home, wearing a garish pair of gumboots, to get ready for a Friday night date. All was right with the world, I felt.

So in the spirit of falling in love, and for anyone falling in love this Friday, here is John Clare’s poem.

First Love

John Clare

I ne’er was struck before that hour

With love so sudden and so sweet,

Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower

And stole my heart away complete.

My face turned pale as deadly pale,

My legs refused to walk away,

And when she looked, what could I ail?

My life and all seemed turned to clay.

And then my blood rushed to my face

And took my eyesight quite away,

The trees and bushes round the place

Seemed midnight at noonday.

I could not see a single thing,

Words from my eyes did start—

They spoke as chords do from the string,

And blood burnt round my heart.

Are flowers the winter’s choice?

Is love’s bed always snow?

She seemed to hear my silent voice,

Not love’s appeals to know.

I never saw so sweet a face

As that I stood before.

My heart has left its dwelling-place

And can return no more.

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