Lesbia Harford

(1891 - 1927 / Australia)

Lesbia Harford Poems

121. The Tyrant 4/15/2010
122. Deliverance Through Art 4/15/2010
123. Appearances 4/15/2010
124. Today Is Rebels' Day. And Yet We Work 4/15/2010
125. Street Music 4/15/2010
126. Once I Thought My Love Was Worth The Name 4/15/2010
127. When Day Is Over 4/15/2010
128. To Plato's Dictum 4/15/2010
129. Suburban Dames 4/15/2010
130. The Folk I Love 4/15/2010
131. If You Have Loved A Brave Story 4/15/2010
132. Summer Lightning 1/1/2004
133. This Evening I'M Alone. 4/15/2010
134. This Year I Have Seen Autumn With New Eyes 4/15/2010
135. I Can'T Feel The Sunshine 4/15/2010
136. Adventurers 4/15/2010
137. Summer Lightning 4/15/2010
138. The Silent Dead 4/15/2010
139. The Love I Look For 4/15/2010
140. They Are So Glad Of A Young Companion, 4/15/2010
141. Fatherless 4/15/2010
142. The Psychological Craze 4/15/2010
143. The People Have Drunk The Wine Of Peace 4/15/2010
144. The Immigrant 4/15/2010
145. The Invisible People 4/15/2010
146. I Count The Days Until I See You 4/15/2010
147. The Electric Tram To Kew 4/15/2010
148. Girl's Love 4/15/2010
149. My Lovely Pixie, My Good Companion, 4/15/2010
150. Ay, Ay, Ay, The Lilies Of The Garden 4/15/2010
151. Birthday 4/15/2010
152. Buddha In The Workroom 4/15/2010
153. A Sophistical Argument 4/15/2010
154. The Sisters 4/15/2010
155. To Leslie 4/15/2010
156. An Improver 4/15/2010
157. The Nuns And The Lilies 4/15/2010
158. All Knowledge . . . 4/15/2010
159. All Through The Day At My Machine 4/15/2010
160. And Is Love Very Strong Where Honour Rules? 4/15/2010

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Best Poem of Lesbia Harford

A Bunch Of Lilac And A Storm Of Hail

A bunch of lilac and a storm of hail
On the same afternoon! Indeed I know
Here in the South it always happens so,
That lilac is companioned by the gale.
I took some hailstones from the window sill
And swallowed them in a communion feast.
Their transitory joy is mine at least,
The lilac's loveliness escapes me still.
Mine are the storms of spring, but not the sweets.

Read the full of A Bunch Of Lilac And A Storm Of Hail

Emmie, Emmie Adams

Emmie, Emmie Adams,
With her insolent air,
Tied a little bit of rag
In her yellow hair.
When Lena, wondering,
Asked why it was there,
Emmie said she didn't know
And she didn't care.
I think Emmie Adams,
Though you are so fair,
That must be the devil's horn
In your yellow hair.

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