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. White Sunshine
2. A lady and I were walking
3. You, whom the grave cannot bind
4. How funny it would be if dreamy I
5. Tall trees along the road

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