Poem by Lesbia Harford

* * *

O little year, cram full of duty,
Rapture and sorrow, too,
Show me the way from old paths of beauty
Into the fields of dew.
Strange lorn fields where the moon goes riding
Over a lonely sky.
Kind little year, in your onward gliding
Let me not pass them by.

1. Closing Time: Public Library
2. He had served eighty masters. They'd have said
3. Child Sun
4. All through the day at my machine
5. Do you remember still the little song

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