Lesbia Harford

(1891 - 1927 / Australia)

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.

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Summer Lightning

Just now, as warm day faded from our sight
Hosts of archangels, fleet
On lighting-winged feet
Passed by, all glimmering in the busy night

Sweet angels, bringing no blinding truth to birth
Give us no messages
From heavenly palaces;
Leave us our dark trees and our starlight earth.

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