ingo: (Default)
[personal profile] ingo
This was my favourite poem back when I was an unhappy fourteen year old. Now I'm an unhappy twenty-six year old, and it still has a special place in the favourite poetry section of my bitter old heart. John Clare wrote it towards the end of his life, after he had been committed to the Northamptonshire County General Lunatic Asylum.

I Am

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 shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet I am! and live with shadows tost

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
And e'en the dearest--that I loved the best--
Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smil'd 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.

Date: 2010-05-21 12:32 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dragonsally.livejournal.com
oh god...I had that written out and on my wall!

Date: 2010-05-21 02:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] aegflota.livejournal.com
Ahahah I had it copied out as well! But it wasn't on my wall, it was in my Sekrit Diary of woe.

Profile

ingo: (Default)
ingo

August 2012

S M T W T F S
   1 234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728293031 

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 25th, 2017 12:38 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios