Poem by Lesbia Harford

* * *

They say — priests say —
That God loves the world.
Maybe he does,
When the dew is pearl'd
On the emerald grass,
Or the young dawns shine
Would you be satisfied,
Proteus mine,
Just to be loved
When your hair was curled,
As Earth is beloved
When earth is fine?
I love you more
Than God loves the world.

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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