Lesbia Harford

* * *

I dare not leave the splendid town
To go where morning meadows are,
For somewhere here the Future's hid
In factory, shop, or liquor bar.
And when the picture shows are closed
She goes to roam about the docks.
Oh, she has wisdom on her mouth
And blood with honey in her locks.
I dare not read of Rosamund
Or such sweet ladyhood in books,
Lest dreaming on their excellence
I should forget the Future's looks.
And I'll walk lonely all my days
Down city pavements without end,
For with young love on flowery paths
I'd have small need of her to friend.
Yea, I would fain forget to sing,
Like larks in city prison bound,
In case I should not hear her voice
Above that clatter of sweet sound.