English poetry

PoetsBiographiesPoems by ThemesRandom Poem
The Rating of PoetsThe Rating of Poems

Poem by Edith Nesbit


To Vera, Who Asked a Song


IF I only had time!
I could make you a rhyme.
But my time is kept flying
By smiling and sighing
And living and dying for you.
The song-seed, I sow it,
I water and hoe it,
But never can grow it.
Ah, traitress, you know it!
What is a poor poet to do?

Ah, let me take breath!
I am harried to death
By the loves and the graces
That crowd where your face is
That lurk in your laces and throng.
Call them off for a minute,
Once let me begin it
The devil is in it
If I can not spin it
As sweet as a linnet, your song!



Edith Nesbit


Edith Nesbit's other poems:
  1. The Prodigal’s Return
  2. The Death of Agnes
  3. These Little Ones
  4. The Last Defeat
  5. At the Last


Poem to print Print

1479 Views



Last Poems


To Russian version


Ðåéòèíã@Mail.ru

English Poetry. E-mail eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru