Edith Nesbit Poems

AH, turn your pretty eyes away!
You would not have me love again?
Love's pleasure does not live a day,
Immortal is Love's pain,
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THE house is haunted; when the little feet
Go pattering about it in their play,
I tremble lest the little one should meet
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HEART of my heart, my life and light,
If you were lost what should I do?
I dare not let you from my sight,
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IF Love and I were all alone
I might forget to grieve,
And for his pleasure and my own
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Many's the time I've found your face
Fresh as a bunch of flowers in May,
Waiting for me at our own old place
At the end of the working day.
...

Work while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.

IN the childhood of April, while purple woods
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ONE came to me in royal guise
With banners flying fair and free
But many griefs had made me wise
And I refused to bow the knee.
...

I

In the wood of lost causes, the valley of tears,
Old hopes, like dead leaves, choke the difficult way;
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CHOKED with ill weeds my garden lay a-dying,
Hard was the ground, no bud had heart to blow,
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Now that the sunlight dies in my eyes,
And the moonlight grows in my hair,
I who was never very wise,
Never was very fair,
...