La hierba ya segada

I dreaded walking where there was no path

And pressed with cautions tread the meadow swath

And always turned to look with wary eye

And always feared the owner coming by...

John Clare

El verano llega como un desconocido

The Summer like a stranger comes;

I paused and hardly know her face.

John Clare

El verano más hermoso

The fairest summer sinks in shade,

The sweetest blossom dies,

And age finds every beauty fade

That youth esteemed a prize.

John Clare

Paseando entre la hierba alta

I love at eventide to walk alone

Down narrow lanes o´erhung with dewy thorn

Where, from the long grass underneath, the snail

Jet black creeps out and sprouts his timid horn.

John Clare