Charlotte Mary Mew

(15 November 1869 – 24 March 1928 / London)

Quotations

  • ''Because all night you have not turned to us or spoken
    It is time for you to wake;''
    Charlotte Mew (1870-1928), British poet. Beside the Bed (l. 12-13). . . Oxford Book of Short Poems, The. P. J. Kavanagh and James Michie, eds. Oxford University Press.
    7 person liked.
    6 person did not like.
  • ''This is only a most piteous pretense of sleep!''
    Charlotte Mew (1870-1928), British poet. Beside the Bed (l. 17). . . Oxford Book of Short Poems, The. P. J. Kavanagh and James Michie, eds. Oxford University Press.
  • ''And if I may not walk in th' old ways and look on
    th' old faces
    I wud sooner sleep.''
    Charlotte Mew (1870-1928), British poet. Old Shepherd's Prayer (l. 17-19). . . Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse, The. Philip Larkin, ed. (1973) Oxford University Press.
  • ''An' him no more to me nor me to him
    Than the wind goin' over my hand.''
    Charlotte Mew (1870-1928), British poet. Sea Love (l. 7-8). . . Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse, The. Philip Larkin, ed. (1973) Oxford University Press.
  • ''She does the work about the house
    As well as most, but like a mouse:
    Happy enough to chat and play
    With birds and rabbits and such as they,
    So long as men-folk keep away.''
    Charlotte Mew (1870-1928), British poet. The Farmer's Bride (l. 20-24). . . Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse, The. Philip Larkin, ed. (1973) Oxford University Press.
  • ''Oh! my God! the down,
    The soft young down of her, the brown,
    The brown of her—her eyes, her hair, her hair . . .''
    Charlotte Mew (1870-1928), British poet. The Farmer's Bride (l. 44-46). . . Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse, The. Philip Larkin, ed. (1973) Oxford University Press.

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The Farmer's Bride

Three summers since I chose a maid,
Too young maybe-but more's to do
At harvest-time that a bide and woo.
When us was wed she turned afraid
Of love and me and all things human;
Like the shut of winter's day
Her smile went out, and `twadn't a woman-
More like a little frightened fay.
One night, in the Fall, she runned away.

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