Lesbia Harford

(1891 - 1927 / Australia)

Lesbia Harford Poems

1. Each Morning I Pass On My Way To Work 4/15/2010
2. Emmie, Emmie Adams 4/15/2010
3. My Window Pane Is Broken 4/15/2010
4. Hecate's Due 4/15/2010
5. You, Whom The Grave Cannot Bind 4/15/2010
6. Hecate's Due 4/15/2010
7. Inventory 4/15/2010
8. Learning Geography 4/15/2010
9. My Mission In The World 4/15/2010
10. I Read A Statement In A Newspaper 4/15/2010
11. I Used To Be Afraid To Meet 4/15/2010
12. I Used To Have Dozens Of Handkerchiefs 4/15/2010
13. Florence Kneels Down To Say Her Prayers 4/15/2010
14. He Has Picked Grapes In The Sun. 4/15/2010
15. I Dreamt Last Night Of Happy Home-Comings 4/15/2010
16. I Have Three Loves Who Are All Most Dear 4/15/2010
17. Most People Have A Way Of Making Friends 4/15/2010
18. My Heart Is A Pomegranate Full Of Sweet Fancies 4/15/2010
19. O Little Year, Cram Full Of Duty 4/15/2010
20. Grotesque 4/15/2010
21. Martha 4/15/2010
22. We Climbed That Hill, 4/15/2010
23. What Were The Good Of Stars If None Looked On Them 4/15/2010
24. Today, In Class, 4/15/2010
25. Today They Made A Bonfire 4/15/2010
26. Tall Trees Along The Road, 4/15/2010
27. They Say — Priests Say 4/15/2010
28. When My Lover Put The Sea Between Us 4/15/2010
29. Why Does She Put Me To Many Indignities 4/15/2010
30. Polytheist 4/15/2010
31. The Contest 4/15/2010
32. Pat Wasn'T Pat Last Night At All 4/15/2010
33. God Speaks 4/15/2010
34. Machinist's Song 4/15/2010
35. O Man, O Woman, Grievest So? 4/15/2010
36. O Sweet And Fair! These Words Are Mine To Use 4/15/2010
37. I Have Two Wings 4/15/2010
38. I Have Golden Shoes 4/15/2010
39. How Funny It Would Be If Dreamy I 4/15/2010
40. Green And Blue 4/15/2010
Best Poem of Lesbia Harford

A Meaning Learnt

I'm not his wife. I am his paramour:
His wayside love, picked up in journeying:
Rose of the hedgerows; fragrant, till he fling
Me down beside the ditch, a drooped thing
Some country boy may stick into his hat.
A paramour has no more use than that.

Read the full of A Meaning Learnt

Emmie, Emmie Adams

Emmie, Emmie Adams,
With her insolent air,
Tied a little bit of rag
In her yellow hair.
When Lena, wondering,
Asked why it was there,
Emmie said she didn't know
And she didn't care.
I think Emmie Adams,
Though you are so fair,
That must be the devil's horn
In your yellow hair.

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