I dreamt last night of happy home-comings

I dreamt last night of happy home-comings.
Friends I had loved and had believed were dead
Came happily to visit me and said
I was a part of their fair home-coming
It's strange that I should dream of welcomings
And happy meetings when my love, last week
Returned from exile, did not even speak
Or write to me or need my welcoming.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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I was sad

I was sad
Having signed up in a rebel band,
Having signed up to rid the land
Of a plague it had.
For I knew
That I would suffer, I would be lost,
Be bitter and foolish and tempest tost
And a failure too.
I was sad;
Though far in the future our light would shine
For the present the dark was ours, was mine,
I couldn't be glad.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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When I go up to work the young blue sea

When I go up to work the young blue sea
Has not awaked from dreams:
It fades to meet the blue sky mistily:
It gleams.
I say,
'All day
It will not wake from dreams.'
And yet, when I come back from work, the sea
Has a green sombreness;
As if the hours between were somehow hours
Of stress.
I read
Its need
Of dim forgetfulness.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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I used to be afraid to meet

I used to be afraid to meet
The lovers going down our street.
I'd try to shrink to half my size
And blink and turn away my eyes
But now I'm one of them I know
I never need have bothered so.
And they won't mind it if I stare
Because they'll never know I'm there
Or if they do, they're proud to be
Fond lovers for the world to see.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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All Knowledge . . .

I know more about flowers,
And Pat knows about ships.
'Schooner' and 'barquentine'
Are words of note on his lips.
Even 'schooner, barque-rigged'
Has meaning for him. And yet
I don't believe he knows
Hearts' ease from mignonette.
And whenever the daffodils,
Like visiting golden dames,
Honour our humble flat,
He has to ask their names.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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Tall trees along the road,

Tall trees along the road,
I never saw you
Last year in summertime.
He came before you
With his blue eyes.
Warm wind along the road,
I never knew you
Last year in summertime.
We could outdo you
With our hot sighs.
This year, oh wind and trees,
We're friends together.
Else should I be alone
In this sweet weather
Beneath fair skies.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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The Invisible People

When I go into town at half past seven
Great crowds of people stream across the ways,
Hurrying, although it's only half past seven.
They are the invisible people of the days.

When you go in to town about eleven
The hurrying, morning crowds are hid from view.
Shut in the silent buildings at eleven
They toil to make life meaningless for you.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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Fatherless

I've had no man
To guard and shelter me,
Guide and instruct me
From mine infancy.
No lord of earth
To show me day by day
What things a girl should do
And what she should say.
I have gone free
Of manly excellence
And hold their wisdom
More than half pretence.
For since no male
Has ruled me or has fed,
I think my own thoughts
In my woman's head.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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O you, dear trees, you have learned so much of beauty

O you, dear trees, you have learned so much of beauty,
You must have studied this only the ages long!
Men have thought of God and laughter and duty.
And of love. And of song.
But you, dear trees, from your birth to your hour of dying,
Have cared for this one way only of being wise.
Lovely, lovely, lovely, the sapling sighing.
Lovely the dead tree lies.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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God Speaks

I made a heaven for you filled with stars,
Each star a song
Meant to give happy music to your ear,
Day and night long.
But in your workshop you are closed away
From the fair sky,
Deafened by noise until you cannot hear
My stars that sigh.
And when night comes your sleepy eyes are blind
To heavens blue;
That was a foolish toy, my dearest dear,
I made for you.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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