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Edith Nesbit

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

Poems of Edith Nesbit

81. Haunted 4/19/2010
82. Hope 4/19/2010
83. Hopes 4/19/2010
84. In Absence 4/19/2010
85. In Age 4/19/2010
86. In Eclipse 4/19/2010
87. In Hospital 4/19/2010
88. In Memoryt Of Saretta Deakin 4/19/2010
89. In Sanctuary 4/19/2010
90. In The Enchanted Tower 4/19/2010
91. In The People's Park 4/19/2010
92. In The Rose Garden 4/19/2010
93. In The Shallows 4/19/2010
94. In Trouble 12/31/2002
95. Inasmuch As Ye Did It Not . . . 4/19/2010
96. Incompatibilities 4/19/2010
97. Indiscretion 4/19/2010
98. Inspiration 4/19/2010
99. Invocation 4/19/2010
100. Invocation II 4/19/2010

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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