Charlotte Mary Mew

(15 November 1869 – 24 March 1928 / London)

From a Window


Up here, with June, the sycamore throws
Across the window a whispering screen;
I shall miss the sycamore more I suppose,
Than anything else on this earth that is out in green.
But I mean to go through the door without fear,
Not caring much what happens here
When I’m away: --
How green the screen is across the panes
Or who goes laughing along the lanes
With my old lover all the summer day.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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