Poem by Lesbia Harford

White Sunshine

The sun's my fire.
Golden, from a magnificence of blue,
Should be its hue.
But woolly clouds,
Like boarding-house old ladies, come and sit
In front of it.
White sunshine, then,
That has the frosty glimmer of white hair,
Freezes the air.
They must forget,
So self-absorbed are they, so very old,
That I'll be cold.

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. Emmie, Emmie Adams
5. The Folk I Love

Print

1380 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version