Poem by Lesbia Harford

* * *

Dearest, dearest,
Bother the slow hours
That hold and keep me
From the leafy bowers
You make more lovely than a storm of flowers.
Dearest, dearest,
If they let me go
I'd hasten to you
Where the waters flow
In among the shadows and the dreams we know.

1. Closing Time: Public Library
2. He had served eighty masters. They'd have said
3. All through the day at my machine
4. Child Sun
5. You, whom the grave cannot bind

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