Edith Nesbit

(15 August 1858 – 4 May 1924 / Kennington / Surrey / England)

Edith Nesbit Poems

241. By Faith With Thanksgiving 4/19/2010
242. The Fields Of Flanders 4/19/2010
243. Work 4/19/2010
244. The Ghost 4/19/2010
245. Inasmuch As Ye Did It Not . . . 4/19/2010
246. Gretna Green 4/19/2010
247. Ghosts 4/19/2010
248. Incompatibilities 4/19/2010
249. Chloe 4/19/2010
250. The Crown Of Life 4/19/2010
251. The Gift Of Life 4/19/2010
252. New College Gardens, Oxford 4/19/2010
253. Christmas 4/19/2010
254. Accession 4/19/2010
255. The Mother's Prayer 4/19/2010
256. Absolution Ii 4/19/2010
257. A Prayer For The King's Majesty 4/19/2010
258. At Evening Time There Shall Be Light 4/19/2010
259. A Life's Story 4/19/2010
260. A Parting 4/19/2010
261. And The Rains Descended And The Floods Came 4/19/2010
262. Windflowers 4/19/2010
263. Inspiration 4/19/2010
264. The Forest Pool 4/19/2010
265. Spring In War-Time 4/19/2010
266. A Choice 4/19/2010
267. Absolution 4/19/2010
268. A Brown Study 4/19/2010
269. In The Rose Garden 4/19/2010
270. The Old Magic 4/19/2010
271. Seed-Time And Harvest 4/19/2010
272. For Dolly -- Who Does Not Learn Her Lessons 4/19/2010
273. A Song For Peace And Honour 4/19/2010
274. A Comedy 4/19/2010
275. A Song Of Parting 4/19/2010
276. Appeal 1/3/2003
277. A Portrait 4/19/2010
278. Gratitude 4/19/2010
279. Song V 4/19/2010
280. The Last Defeat 4/19/2010

Comments about Edith Nesbit

There is no comment submitted by members..
Best Poem of Edith Nesbit

The Choice

PLAGUE take the dull and dusty town,
Its paved and sordid mazes,
Now Spring has trimmed her pretty gown
With buttercups and daisies!


With half my heart I long to lie
Among the flowered grasses,
And hear the loving leaves that sigh
As their sweet Mistress passes.


Through picture-shows I make my way
While flower-crowned maids go maying,
And all the cultured things I say
That cultured folk are saying.


For I renounce Spring's darling face,
With may-bloom fresh upon it:
My Mistress lives in Grosvenor-place
And wears...

Read the full of The Choice

The Island

Does the wind sing in your ears at night, in the town,
Rattling the windows and doors of the cheap-built place?
Do you hear its song as it flies over marsh and down?
Do you feel the kiss that the wind leaves here on my face?
Or, wrapt in a lamplit quiet, do you restrain
Thoughts that would take the wind's way hither to me,
And bid them rest safe-anchored, nor tempt again
The tumult, and torment, and passion that live in the sea?

[Report Error]