Amelia Josephine Burr
A Lynmouth Widow
He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blue
As the summer meeting of sky and sea,
And the ruddy cliffs had a colder hue
Than flushed his cheek when he married me.
We passed the porch where the swallows breed,
We left the little brown church behind,
And I leaned on his arm, though I had no need,
Only to feel him so strong and kind.
One thing I never can quite forget;
It grips my throat when I try to pray --
The keen salt smell of a drying net
That hung on the churchyard wall that day.
He would have taken a long, long grave --
A long, long grave, for he stood so tall . . .
Oh, God, the crash of a breaking wave,
And the smell of the nets on the churchyard wall!
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Comments about this poem (A Lynmouth Widow by Amelia Josephine Burr )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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