1 min read
Слушать(AI)From a Window
Up here, with June, the sycamore throws Across the window a whispering screen; I shall miss the sycamore more I suppose,
Than anything else on this earth that is out in green. But I mean to go through the door without fear, Not caring much what happens here When I’m away: —How green the screen is across the panes Or who goes laughing along the
With my old lover all the summer day.
Charlotte Mary Mew
Charlotte Mary Mew (15 November 1869 – 24 March 1928) was an English poet whose work spans the eras of Victorian poetry and Modernism.
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
My Heart is Lame
My heart is lame with running after yours so Such a long way, Shall we walk slowly home, looking at all the things we Perhaps to-day
To A Child In Death
You would have scoffed if we had told you Love made us feel, or so it was with me, like some great Trying to hold and shelter you in its strong wing: — A gay little shadowy smile would have tossed us back such a solemn word, And it ...
May 1915
Let us remember Spring will come To the scorched, blackened woods, where the wounded Wait with their old wise patience for the heavenly rain, Sure of the sky: sure of the sea to send its healing breeze,
Sea Love
Tide be runnin' the great world over:'Twas only last June month I mind that Was thinkin' the toss and the call in the breast of the So everlastin' as the sea Heer's the same little fishes that sputter an swim,
