Found in the Fields – Carry Akroyd

I felt that Id a right to song
And sung – but in a timid strain
Of fondness for my native plain
For every thing I felt a love,
The weeds below the birds above
And weeds that bloomed in summers hours
I thought they should be reckoned flowers
They made a garden free for all
And so I loved them great and small… John Clare
FOLLOW ME ON…
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
SIGNUP FOR MY OCCASSIONAL NEWSLETTER

Privacy Policy…

All images © Carry Akroyd. All rights reserved.

0

Your Basket

Slow

Weeds

Rookery

Twigs

Glory

Venerable

Startled

City

Swifts

Hope

Barter

Grasses

Blackbird

Providence

Vanished

Rain