Poem by Lesbia Harford

* * *

I count the days until I see you, dear,
But the days only.
I dare not reckon up the nights and hours
I shall be lonely.
But when at last I meet you, dearest heart,
How can it cheer me?
Desire has power to turn me into stone,
When you come near me.
I give my heart the lie against my will,
Seem not to see you,
Glance aside quickly if I meet your eye,
Love you and flee 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. I love to see
5. Emmie, Emmie Adams

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