I read John Clare because I like the sounds, like those of the closing line
of this poem from the early-mid-1800s. I also like "the lodging snows..." Fodder is cattle feed; here, brawl
means a loud noise or clamor.
Clare, 1820s, image borrowed from the John Clare Society |
The Foddering Boy
The foddering boy
along the crumping snows
With
straw-band-belted legs and folded arm
Hastens and on the
blast that keenly blows
Oft turns for breath
and beats his fingers warm
And shakes the
lodging snows from off his clothes,
Buttoning his
doublet closer from the storm
And slouching his
brown beaver o'er his nose.
Then faces it again
-- and seeks the stack
Within its circling
fence -- where hungry lows
Expecting cattle
making many a track
About the snows --
impatient for the sound
When in huge
fork-fulls trailing at his back
He litters the sweet
hay about the ground
And brawls to call
the staring cattle back.
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