Poem by Lesbia Harford

The Folk I Love

I do hate the folk I love-
They hurt so.
Their least word and act may be
Source of woe.
'Won't you come to tea with me?'
'Not today'
I'm so tired, I've been to church
Such folk say.

All the dreary afternoon
I must clutch
At the strength to love like them
Not too much

1. You, whom the grave cannot bind
2. I can't feel the sunshine
3. He had served eighty masters. They'd have said
4. I have golden shoes
5. I love to see

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