Probably because the market for the ‘Peasant Poet’ had died before he was 30, instead of the deadening effect of the demands of his supporters, Clare continued to produce the most original and beautiful work right up to his death in 1864. Untrammelled by the demands of editors and publishers.
“Clare tells us of his youth that ‘when a face pleased me, I scribbled a Song or so in her praise’ … with all pretty women he was always a little in love and though Mary Joyce was first in time and first in intensity, ‘other Marys &c excited my admiration, & the first creator of my warm passions’ was lost in a perplexed multitudes of names. (…) How often did Clare have music in his head as he composed his songs … even without their music, however, many of these songs have a perfect lyrical quality … each one needs to be savoured separately.”
Who else could have written these lines? Of course, because of its content, unpublished save for the Clarendon editions:
Puffd by the screne of yer bosom so white
& sure as Im living no shock of an ague
Coud totter me more then I shook at the sight
& ye bowd yer head so & blusht to expose em
Panting new charms I before never saw
Daisey white hills swelling high on yer bosom
Ye might taen & beaten me down wi a straw
Many of his love songs and ballads have never been published outside the Clarendon editions, which is a pity as there is much beauty to be found in the most unexpected of places. Here are a few, I hope you like them as much as I do.
'Love Songs' is priced at £5 inc. P&P
Drop me a line : arborfield (at) pm (dot) me
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