Love's Pains - by John Clare

This love, I canna' bear it,

It cheats me night and day;

This love, I canna' wear it,

It takes my peace away.

This love, wa' once a flower;

But now it is a thorn-

The joy o' evening hour,

Turn'd to a pain e're morn.

This love, it wa' a bud,

And a secret known to me;

Like a flower within a wood;

Like a nest within a tree.

This love, wrong understood,

Oft' turned my joy to pain;

I tried to throw away the bud,

But the blossom would remain.