Produced by Barbara Watson, David T. Jones, Al Haines & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net
THE POETRY BOOKSHOP 35 DEVONSHIRE STREET, THEOBALDS ROAD, W.C. 1923
SPRING MORNING 5 A RECOLLECTION 6 YOUTH AND AGE 7 A CHILD'S DREAM 8 TO A FAT LADY SEEN FROM THE TRAIN 10 A WASTED DAY 11 IN FRANCE 12 THE OLD WITCH IN THE COPSE 13 IN DORSET 16 THE WATCH 17 PEOPLE 18 DAWN 19 MOUNTAINS 20 A PEASANT WOMAN 21 AUTUMN MORNING AT CAMBRIDGE 22 AUTUMN EVENING 22 AT NIGHT 23
Now the moisty wood discloses Wrinkled leaves of primèroses, While the birds, they flute and sing: Build your nests, for here is Spring.
All about the open hills Daisies shew their peasant frills, Washed and white and newly spun For a festival of sun.
Like a blossom from the sky, Drops a yellow butterfly, Dancing down the hedges grey Snow-bestrewn till yesterday.
Squirrels skipping up the trees Smell how Spring is in the breeze, While the birds, they flute and sing: Build your nests, for here is Spring.
My father's friend came once to tea. He laughed and talked. He spoke to me. But in another week they said That friendly pink-faced man was dead.
"How sad . ." they said, "the best of men . ." So I said too, "How sad"; but then Deep in my heart I thought with pride, "I know a person who has died."
Say, is it dim and grim and all full of fear? Not at all, not at all, my pretty dear. Will there be no hope? Nothing to desire? You shall be comforted sitting by the fire. Will no one look at me? love me, if I please? You shall doze happy with a little bread and cheese. Even the springing grass--will it look pale? You shall be gladdened with a little warm ale. Shall I be trembling and querulous of tongue? You shall be wiser than anybody young. When the first thrushes sing, shall I not hear? Not at all, not at all, my pretty dear.
I had a little dog, and my dog was very small; He licked me in the face, and he answered to my call; Of all the treasures that were mine, I loved him most of all.
His nose was fresh as morning dew and blacker than the night; I thought that it could even snuff the shadows and the light; And his tail he held it bravely, like a banner in a fight.
His body covered thick with hair was very good to smell; His little stomach underneath was pink as any shell; And I loved him and honoured him, more than words can tell.