Poem by Lesbia Harford

The Invisible People

When I go into town at half past seven
Great crowds of people stream across the ways,
Hurrying, although it's only half past seven.
They are the invisible people of the days.

When you go in to town about eleven
The hurrying, morning crowds are hid from view.
Shut in the silent buildings at eleven
They toil to make life meaningless for you.

1. How funny it would be if dreamy I
2. A bunch of lilac and a storm of hail
3. O little year, cram full of duty
4. Each morning I pass on my way to work
5. I bought a red hat

Print

1411 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version