The Maple Tree

by John Clare

The maple with its tassel flowers of green
That turns to red a staghorn-shapèd seed
Just spreading out its scollopped leaves is seen,
Of yellowish hue yet beautifully green.
Bark ribbed like corderoy in seamy screed
That farther up the stem is smoother seen,
Where the white hemlock with white umbel flowers
Up each spread stoven to the branches towers
And mossy around the stoven spreads, dark green
And blotched-leaved orchis and the blue-bell flowers:
Thickly they grow and ’neath the leaves are seen;
I love to see them gemmed with morning hours.
I love the lone green places where they be,
And the sweet clothing of the maple-tree.