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Poem by Charlotte Mew


A Quoi Bon Dire


Seventeen years ago you said
Something that sounded like Good-bye;
And everybody thinks that you are dead,
But I.

So I, as I grow stiff and cold
To this and that say Good-bye too;
And everybody sees that I am old
But you.

And one fine morning in a sunny lane
Some boy and girl will meet and kiss and swear
That nobody can love their way again
While over there
You will have smiled, I shall have tossed your hair. 



Charlotte Mew


Charlotte Mew's other poems:
  1. Monsieur Qui Passe
  2. The Forest Road
  3. The Peddler
  4. June, 1915
  5. Ken


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