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Classic poem

Field Path

by John Clare

The beams in blossom with their spots of jet

Smelt sweet as gardens wheresoever met;

The level meadow grass was in the swath;

The hedge briar rose hung right across the path,

White over with its flowers--the grass that lay

Bleaching beneath the twittering heat to hay

Smelt so deliciously, the puzzled bee

Went wondering where the honey sweets could be;

And passer-bye along the level rows

Stoopt down and whipt a bit beneath his nose.

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Public domain/Source

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