Edith Nesbit

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

Edith Nesbit Poems

281. To Her: In Time Of War 4/19/2010
282. To His Lady 4/19/2010
283. To His Lady, 4/19/2010
284. To Hubert 4/19/2010
285. To Iris 4/19/2010
286. To One Who Bade Him Work 4/19/2010
287. To One Who Pleaded For Candour In Love 4/19/2010
288. To Rosamund 4/19/2010
289. To The Queen Of England 4/19/2010
290. To Vera, Who Asked A Song 4/19/2010
291. Too Late 4/19/2010
292. Town And Country 4/19/2010
293. Trafalgar Day 4/19/2010
294. True Love And New Love 4/19/2010
295. Two Christmas Eves 4/19/2010
296. Two Voices 4/19/2010
297. Unofficial 4/19/2010
298. Until The Dawn 4/19/2010
299. Values 4/19/2010
300. Via Amoris 4/19/2010
301. Vies Manquees 4/19/2010
302. Villeggiature 1/3/2003
303. Waterloo Day 4/19/2010
304. Wedding Day 4/19/2010
305. When! 4/19/2010
306. White Magic 4/19/2010
307. Windflowers 4/19/2010
308. Winter 4/19/2010
309. Work 4/19/2010
Best Poem of Edith Nesbit

Song

Now the Spring is waking,
Very shy as yet,
Busy mending, making
Grass and violet.
Frowsy Winter's over:
See the budding lane!
Go and meet your lover:
Spring is here again!

Every day is longer
Than the day before;
Lambs are whiter, stronger,
Birds sing more and more;
Woods are less than shady,
Griefs are more than vain -
Go and kiss your lady:
Spring is here again!

Read the full of Song

A Tragedy

Among his books he sits all day
To think and read and write;
He does not smell the new-mown hay,
The roses red and white.

I walk among them all alone,
His silly, stupid wife;
The world seems tasteless, dead and done -
An empty thing is life.

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