Edith Nesbit

(15 August 1858 – 4 May 1924 / Kennington / Surrey / England)

Edith Nesbit Poems

1. The Prodigal's Return 4/19/2010
2. The Sphinx 4/19/2010
3. The Star 4/19/2010
4. The Temptation 4/19/2010
5. The Touchstone 4/19/2010
6. The Treasure 4/19/2010
7. The Vain Spell 4/19/2010
8. The Vault--After Sedgmoor 4/19/2010
9. The Veil Of Maya 4/19/2010
10. The Way Of Love 4/19/2010
11. The Whirligig Of Time 4/19/2010
12. The Will To Live 4/19/2010
13. This Desirable Mansion 4/19/2010
14. Through The Wood 4/19/2010
15. To A Child 4/19/2010
16. To Her: In Time Of War 4/19/2010
17. To His Lady, 4/19/2010
18. To Hubert 4/19/2010
19. To Vera, Who Asked A Song 4/19/2010
20. Too Late 4/19/2010
21. Town And Country 4/19/2010
22. Trafalgar Day 4/19/2010
23. True Love And New Love 4/19/2010
24. Two Christmas Eves 4/19/2010
25. Two Voices 4/19/2010
26. To One Who Bade Him Work 4/19/2010
27. To One Who Pleaded For Candour In Love 4/19/2010
28. To Rosamund 4/19/2010
29. Until The Dawn 4/19/2010
30. Unofficial 4/19/2010
31. To Iris 4/19/2010
32. To His Lady 4/19/2010
33. To A Tulip-Bulb 4/19/2010
34. These Little Ones 4/19/2010
35. The Stolen God--Lazarus To Dives 4/19/2010
36. The Spider Queen 4/19/2010
37. The Skylark 4/19/2010
38. The Refusal 4/19/2010
39. The Return 4/19/2010
40. The Three Kings 4/19/2010
Best Poem of Edith Nesbit

The Choice

PLAGUE take the dull and dusty town,
Its paved and sordid mazes,
Now Spring has trimmed her pretty gown
With buttercups and daisies!


With half my heart I long to lie
Among the flowered grasses,
And hear the loving leaves that sigh
As their sweet Mistress passes.


Through picture-shows I make my way
While flower-crowned maids go maying,
And all the cultured things I say
That cultured folk are saying.


For I renounce Spring's darling face,
With may-bloom fresh upon it:
My Mistress lives in Grosvenor-place
And wears...

Read the full of The Choice

St. Valentine's Day

The South is a dream of flowers
With a jewel for sky and sea,
Rose-crowns for the dancing hours,
Gold fruits upon every tree;
But cold from the North The wind blows forth
That blows my love to me.
The stars in the South are gold
Like lamps between sky and sea;
The flowers that the forests hold.

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