Edith Nesbit Magic Poems

Gray is the sea, and the skies are gray;
They are ghosts of our blue, bright yesterday;
And gray are the breasts of the gulls that scream
...

Your touch on my hand is fire,
Your lips on my lips are flowers.
My darling, my one desire,
Dear crown of my days and hours.
...

THROUGH many days and many days
The seed of love lay hidden close;
We walked the dusty tiresome ways
Where never a leaf or blossom grows.
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What was the spell she wove for me?
Life was a common useful thing,
An eligible building site
To hold a house to shelter me.
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This is the room to which she came,
And Spring itself came with her;
She stirred the fire of life to flame,
She called all music hither.
...