24 Quotes & Sayings By John Clare

John Clare (19 June 1793 – 1 May 1864) was an English poet who wrote "The Sorrows of Young Werther". Clare was born in a house behind St. Michael's Church in the hamlet of S'ston., a few miles from Chelmsford. His father, a prosperous farmer, died young, and his mother remarried Read more

At the age of five Clare was sent to boarding school at Saffron Walden, where he spent the next five years, leaving school with three months to spare before his eighteenth birthday. In 1810, Clare left home to work as a private tutor in London. He had planned to study for the ministry, but after a year he gave up on that plan and became a clerk in a bank.

In 1814, he began writing poetry. He published Poems (1815) and Poems: Chiefly Lyrical (1816), both of which included "The Sorrows of Young Werther". After being rejected by several publishers, they were finally accepted by John Wilson Croker in 1817.

The book was published on 27 March 1817 and brought him instant fame. In May that same year, the American edition appeared under the title The Poetical Works of John Clare, with a Biographical Memoir by William Hayley. The most famous of his poems is "The Sorrows of Young Werther", which he first published anonymously in the London Magazine in July 1817 and collected in Poems (1817).

The poem is based on Goethe's novel Der Leutnant von Koln (The Lieutenant of Köln), and has been read as an expression of young love gone tragically wrong. It was widely circulated during the Romantic period as an example of true romantic love; however, some critics claim that it does not reflect true romantic love at all but rather disillusionment and disappointment with life as it is experienced by those who cannot attain the unattainable ideal standard set up by those new romantics.

In crime and enmity they lie Who sin and tell...
1
In crime and enmity they lie Who sin and tell us love can die, Who say to us in slander's breath That love belongs to sin and death. John Clare
2
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 shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes And yet I am, and live–like vapours tossed John Clare
I found the poems in the fields, And only wrote...
3
I found the poems in the fields, And only wrote them down. John Clare
O words are poor receipts for what time hath stole...
4
O words are poor receipts for what time hath stole away John Clare
5
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 shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes And yet I am, and live–like vapours tossed Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life or joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems; Even the dearest that I loved the best Are strange–nay, rather, stranger than the rest. John Clare
I sleep with thee, and wake with thee, And yet...
6
I sleep with thee, and wake with thee, And yet thou are not there; I fill my arms with thoughts of thee, And press the common air. John Clare
7
I long for scenes where man hath 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. John Clare
Language has not the power to speak what love indites...
8
Language has not the power to speak what love indites The soul lies buried in the Ink that writes John Clare
9
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life or joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems; Even the dearest that I loved the best Are strange–nay, rather, stranger than the rest. John Clare
Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rude And...
10
Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rude And fled to the silence of sweet solitude. John Clare
Hill tops like hot iron glitter bright in the sun,...
11
Hill tops like hot iron glitter bright in the sun, And the rivers we're eying burn to gold as they run; Burning hot is the ground, liquid gold is the air; Whoever looks round sees Eternity there. John Clare
O I never thought that joys would run away from...
12
O I never thought that joys would run away from boys, Or that boys would change their minds and forsake such summer joys; But alack I never dreamed that the world had other toys John Clare
A maidenhead, the virgin's trouble Is well-compare-d to a bubbleon...
13
A maidenhead, the virgin's trouble Is well-compare-d to a bubbleon a navigable river Soon 'tis touched t'is gone forever John Clare
14
Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rude And fled to the silence of sweet solitude. Where the flower in green darkness buds, blossoms, and fades, Unseen of all shepherds and flower-loving maids– The hermit bees find them but once and away. There I'll bury alive and in silence decay. John Clare
15
O lead me onward to the loneliest shade, The darkest place that quiet ever made, Where kingcups grow most beauteous to behold And shut up green and open into gold. John Clare
16
I wish I was what I have been And what I was could be As when I roved in shadows green And loved my willow tree To gaze upon the starry sky And higher fancies build And make in solitary joy Loves temple in the field John Clare
17
Yet simple souls, their faith it knows no stint: Things least to be believed are most preferred. All counterfeits, as from truth's sacred mint, Are readily believed if once put down in print John Clare
18
I hate the very noise of troublous man Who did and does me all the harm he can. Free from the world I would a prisoner be And my own shadow all my company. John Clare
19
In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be; Where all the noises, that on peace intrude, Come from the chittering cricket, bird, and bee, Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude. John Clare
20
O take me from the busy crowd, I cannot bear the noise! For Nature's voice is never loud; I seek for quiet joys. The book I love is everywhere, And not in idle words; The book I love is known to all, And better lore affords. John Clare
21
There is a charm in Solitude that cheers A feeling that the world knows nothing of A green delight the wounded mind endears After the hustling world is broken off John Clare
22
If life had a second edition, how I would correct the proofs. John Clare
23
He could not die when trees were green, for he loved the time too well. John Clare