Ernestine Northover Poems

A moon is glowing,
Light of the night illuming.
Reflecting the sun.
...

Look out across the windswept hills,
With rainbow hues, with misty blues,
Across the valleys, lakes and rills,
Where landscapes fuse, where eyes peruse,
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How very nice it is after working all day,
To come back home and quietly wile away,
Your leisure hours in many pleasant ways,
Easing the pressures of your present days.
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Baby sweet, baby mine,
King of Kings, so sublime,
Born for us on Christmas Day,
Master of all that you'll survey.
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They are two smart ladies, in a cafe, drinking tea,
Both chattering away so fast, and so very merrily,
They have obviously, to my mind, been friends for many years,
One of them is talking, the other one, she hears,
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Why is it that a man somehow, just cannot mention 'Please',
When asking for some help from me and you,
It really seems to me, that it is such an awful shame,
It tends to leave one feeling down and blue.
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Some days I feel that 'life' just knocks me down,
Those harsh words said, your sharpness and your frown,
Remembering these things, what is the answer - how
Can I shake off those hurting actions now,
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'I wouldn't like to be in your shoes',
This woman contemptuously said,
What's the matter with my shoes,
They've stood me in good stead.
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Across the fields, at close of day,
When mists fall low, and the skies are grey,
The cows with solemn slowness plod,
Homeward, through oozing, squelching sod,
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A proud, regal, majestic and elegant machine,
She's a magnificent sight, this metal powered dream
Pulsating over hundreds of miles of railway track,
Never once to be found, ever looking back,
...