Poem by Lesbia Harford

* * *

You, whom the grave cannot bind,
Shall a song hold you?
Still you escape from the mesh
Spun to enfold you.
Your woven texture of flesh
Short time confined you.
Sib to the sun and the wind,
Shall a song bind you?

1. Suburban Dames
2. A lady and I were walking
3. My heart is a pomegranate full of sweet fancies
4. Why does she put me to many indignities
5. I love to see

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