Harold Monro

(14 March 1879 - 16 March 1932 / Brussels)

Harold Monro Poems

1. Introspection 11/27/2015
2. London Interior 4/23/2012
3. Goldfish 4/21/2010
4. Suburb 4/23/2012
5. Midnight Lamentation 4/23/2012
6. The Silent Pool 4/23/2012
7. Living 4/23/2012
8. Unknown Country 4/21/2010
9. Week-End 4/21/2010
10. Gravikty 4/21/2010
11. Man Carrying Bale 4/21/2010
12. Lake Leman 1/1/2004
13. The Nightingale Near The House 4/21/2010
14. Every Thing 4/21/2010
15. Children Of Love 4/21/2010
16. Two Poems: (Numbers I And X In 'strange Meetings.') 4/21/2010
17. Thistledown 4/21/2010
18. Real Property 4/21/2010
19. Youth In Arms 4/21/2010
20. The Rebellious Vine 4/21/2010
21. Dog 4/21/2010
22. Child Of Dawn 1/1/2004
23. The Bird At Dawn 4/21/2010
24. Solitude 4/21/2010
25. Overheard On A Salmarsh 4/21/2010
26. Milk For The Cat 4/21/2010
27. Great City 4/21/2010

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Best Poem of Harold Monro

Overheard On A Salmarsh

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?
Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?
Give them me.
No.
Give them me. Give them me.
No.
Then I will howl all night in the reeds,
Lie in the mud and howl for them.

Goblin, why do you love them so?

They are better than stars or water,
Better than voices of winds that sing,
Better than any man's fair daughter,
Your green glass beads on a silver ring.

Hush, I stole them out of the moon.
Give me your beads, I want them.
No.

I will howl in the deep lagoon
For your green glass beads, I ...

Read the full of Overheard On A Salmarsh

Every Thing

Since man has been articulate,
Mechanical, improvidently wise,
(Servant of Fate),
He has not understood the little cries
And foreign conversations of the small
Delightful creatures that have followed him
Not far behind;
Has failed to hear the sympathetic call
Of Crockery and Cutlery, those kind