Lesbia Harford Poems
|161.||Body And Soul||4/15/2010|
|162.||The Two Swans||4/15/2010|
|163.||A Blouse Machinist||4/15/2010|
|164.||A Bronte Legend||4/15/2010|
|166.||Cherry Plum Blossom In An Old Tin Jug||4/15/2010|
|168.||A Strike Rhyme||4/15/2010|
|169.||Beauty And Terror||4/15/2010|
|172.||A Prayer To Saint Rosa||4/15/2010|
|174.||A Bunch Of Lilac And A Storm Of Hail||4/15/2010|
|176.||A Meaning Learnt||4/15/2010|
|177.||A Lady And I Were Walking||4/15/2010|
Comments about Lesbia Harford
Why will you play Peep Bo
Now in, now out
The workroom window so?
That there are children here;
But they've no time
To play Peep Bo, my dear.
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.