Charlotte Mary Mew

(15 November 1869 – 24 March 1928 / London)

Charlotte Mary Mew Poems

1. The Call 7/6/2015
2. The Road To Kerity 3/25/2012
3. Fin De Fête 3/25/2012
4. The Sunlit House 3/25/2012
5. Song 3/25/2012
6. Madeline In Church 3/25/2012
7. Not For That City 3/25/2012
8. Pêcheresse 3/25/2012
9. Ken 3/25/2012
10. The Voice 3/25/2012
11. Fame 1/28/2014
12. Moorland Night 3/25/2012
13. The Forest Road 3/25/2012
14. June, 1915 11/25/2014
15. In Nunhead Cemetary 3/25/2012
16. Monsieur Qui Passe 1/3/2003
17. The Peddler 1/3/2003
18. Sea Love 1/3/2003
19. I Have Been Through The Gates 1/3/2003
20. The Cenotaph 1/3/2003
21. From A Window 1/3/2003
22. In The Fields 1/3/2003
23. Absence 1/3/2003
24. A Quoi Bon Dire 1/3/2003
25. The Trees Are Down 1/3/2003
26. The Farmer's Bride 1/3/2003
27. A Farewell 1/3/2003
28. The Changeling 1/3/2003
29. On The Road To The Sea 1/3/2003
30. I So Liked Spring 1/3/2003
31. My Heart Is Lame 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Charlotte Mary Mew

My Heart Is Lame

My heart is lame with running after yours so fast
Such a long way,
Shall we walk slowly home, looking at all the things we passed
Perhaps to-day?

Home down the quiet evening roads under the quiet skies,
Not saying much,
You for a moment giving me your eyes
When you could bear my touch.

But not to-morrow. This has taken all my breath;
Then, though you look the same,
There may be something lovelier in Love's face in death
As your heart sees it, running back the way we came;
My heart is lame.

Read the full of My Heart Is Lame

From A Window

Up here, with June, the sycamore throws
Across the window a whispering screen;
I shall miss the sycamore more I suppose,
Than anything else on this earth that is out in green.
But I mean to go through the door without fear,
Not caring much what happens here
When I’m away: --
How green the screen is across the panes
Or who goes laughing along the lanes

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