Edith Nesbit Poems

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 Among his books he sits all day
To think and read and write;
He does not smell the new-mown hay,
The roses red and white.

I walk among them all alone,
His silly, stupid wife;
The world seems tasteless, dead and done -
An empty thing is life.

At night his window casts a square
Of light upon the lawn;
I sometimes walk and watch it there
Until the chill...Read more of this...

 Daphnis dearest, wherefore weave me
Webs of lies lest truth should grieve me?
I could pardon much, believe me:
Dower me, Daphnis, or bereave me,
Kiss me, kill me, love me, leave me,-
Damn me, dear, but don't deceive me!...Read more of this...

 1 It's all for nothing: I've lost im now.
2 I suppose it ad to be:
3 But oh I never thought it of im,
4 Nor e never thought it of me.
5 And all for a kiss on your evening out
6 An a field where the grass was down ...
7 And e as gone to God-knows-where,
8 And I may go on...Read more of this...

 The South is a dream of flowers 
With a jewel for sky and sea, 
Rose-crowns for the dancing hours, 
Gold fruits upon every tree; 
But cold from the North The wind blows forth 
That blows my love to me. 
The stars in the South are gold 
Like lamps between sky and sea; 
The flowers that the forests hold. 
Like...Read more of this...

 1 The garden mould was damp and chill,
2 Winter had had his brutal will
3 Since over all the year's content
4 His devastating legions went. 

5 Then Spring's bright banners came: there woke
6 Millions of little growing folk
7 Who thrilled to know the winter done,
8 Gave thanks, and strove towards the sun. 

9 Not so the elect; reserved, and slow
10...Read more of this...

 Does the wind sing in your ears at night, in the town, 
Rattling the windows and doors of the cheap-built place? 
Do you hear its song as it flies over marsh and down? 
Do you feel the kiss that the wind leaves here on my face? 
Or, wrapt in a lamplit quiet, do you restrain 
Thoughts that would take...Read more of this...

 The snow is white on wood and wold,
The wind is in the firs,
So dead my heart is with the cold,
No pulse within it stirs,
Even to see your face, my dear,
Your face that was my sun;
There is no spring this bitter year,
And summer's dreams are done.

The snakes that lie about my heart
Are in their wintry sleep;
Their fangs no more deal...Read more of this...

 My mouth blooms like a cut.
I've been wronged all year, tedious
nights, nothing but rough elbows in them
and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby
crybaby , you fool!

Before today my body was useless.
Now it's tearing at its square corners.
It's tearing old Mary's garments off, knot by knot
and see -- Now it's shot full of these electric bolts.
Zing! A resurrection!

Once it was...Read more of this...

 My window, framed in pear-tree bloom,
White-curtained shone, and softly lighted:
So, by the pear-tree, to my room
Your ghost last night climbed uninvited.

Your solid self, long leagues away,
Deep in dull books, had hardly missed me;
And yet you found this Romeo's way,
And through the blossom climbed and kissed me.

I watched the still and dewy lawn,
The pear-tree boughs hung white above you;
I listened...Read more of this...