Poem of the month

Mouse’s Nest

by John Clare

I found a ball of grass among the hay
And progged it as I passed and went away;
And when I looked I fancied something stirred,
And turned again and hoped to catch the bird –
When out an old mouse bolted in the wheats
With all her young ones hanging at her teats;
She looked so odd and so grotesque to me,
I ran and wondered what the thing could be,
And pushed the knapweed bunches where I stood;
Then the mouse hurried from the craking brood.
The young ones squeaked, and as I went away
She found her nest again among the hay.
The water o’er the pebbles scarce could run
And broad old cesspools glittered in the sun.

John Clare (1793-1864) was the son of a farm labourer who grew up during the Agrarian Revolution in a time of rapid industrialisation. Despite having almost no formal education he began to write in an attempt to stave off his parents’ eviction from their home and enjoyed some early success. Though he was never accepted by the English literary establishment and his work soon became largely ignored, he is now recognised as one of the greatest of all English nature poets. His poor health and bouts of depression led to him spending most of the second half of his life in an asylum.