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Poem by Charlotte Mew


The Sunlit House


White, through the gate it gleamed and slept
In shattered sunshine. The parched garden flowers
Their scarlet petals from the beds unswept
Like children unloved and ill-kept
Dreamed through the hours Two blue hydrangeas by the blistered door burned brown
Watched there, and no one in the town
Cared to go past it night or day
Though why this was they wouldn't say

But I, the stranger, knew that I must stay.
Pace up the weed-grown paths and down -
Till one afternoon - there is just a doubt -
Bit I fancy I heard a tiny shout -
From an upper window a bird flew out -
And I went my way. 



Charlotte Mew


Charlotte Mew's other poems:
  1. Monsieur Qui Passe
  2. The Cenotaph
  3. In Nunhead Cemetary
  4. Ken
  5. Moorland Night


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