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. How funny it would be if dreamy I
2. O little year, cram full of duty
3. Machinist Talking
4. Each morning I pass on my way to work
5. Closing Time: Public Library

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