Bloom doubly fair, sweet flowers, to-day.
And all your rarest hues display.
For Clare has left her couch of pain,
And longs to see your forms again.

Shine doubly bright, fair sun, to-day.
And chase the envious clouds away,
Clare will again the greensward tread.
If thou art reigning high overhead.

Be doubly clear, swift stream, to-day, ip
As thou pursu'st thine onward way ;
Clare may along thy margin pass.
And thou her form may'st wave to glass.

Sing doubly sweet, glad birds, to-day,
In wood and grove, on bough and spray;
Clare may be by to hear your strains
Go floating o'er the happy plains.

Sweet flowers, fair sun, swift stream, glad birds,
Bespond to my beseeching words.
By being as I'd have you be.
And gentle Clare again you'll see.

More verses by John Bradford