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The Life of John Clare by Frederick Martin
page 31 of 317 (09%)
trees and the blue waters of the lake. John Clare thought he had never
before seen the world so exquisitely beautiful; he thought he had never
before felt so thoroughly happy in all his life. He did not know how to
give vent to his happiness; singing would not do it, nor even crying. But
he had a pencil in his pocket and a bit of crumpled paper, and,
unconscious almost of what he was doing, with a sort of instinctive
movement, he began to write--began to write poetry. The verses thus
composed were subsequently printed, but with great alterations, under the
title, 'The Morning Walk.' What Clare actually wrote on his crumpled bit
of paper was, probably, very imperfect in form, and not fit to be seen
till thrice distilled in the crucible of his future 'able editor.'

John Clare felt intensely joyful when returning to Helpston from his long
morning walk. He did not mind being taken to task by his indulgent
employer for having, for the first time, neglected his duty; did not mind
the reproaches of his fellow-servant as to his having broken his compact.
The cowherd justly argued that, after the solemn agreement to look after
the horses for three hours on payment of one penny, and to keep the
secret for another penny, it was unfair to burthen him with the
responsibility of the guardianship, as well as the secret, for more than
half a day. Seeing the justice of the claim, John Clare, in the fulness
of his heart, gave his brother cowherd the sixpence, which the kind
bookseller at Stamford had presented him with. However, though generously
paid, the cowherding youth was unable to keep the terrible secret for
more than a day. The next morning he told his sweetheart, in strict
confidence, that Clare had got into an immense fortune, and was running
up and down to Stamford to buy books and 'all sorts of things.' Before it
was evening, the whole village knew the story, and a hundred fingers were
pointed at Clare while he walked down the street. He was greatly blamed
on all sides: blamed, in the first instance, for allowing himself to be
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