two Lesbia Harford poems

A lady and I were walking
Where waters flow;
A lady and I were talking
Softly and slow.

This is what you were saying,
Lady of mine,
"I will be sad without him,
Yea, I will pine.

But he would never leave me
If he were free.
That's what my love in prison
Whispered to me."

September, 1919


The Folk I Love

I do so hate the folk I love,
They hurt so.
Their least word and act may be
Source of woe.

"Won't you come to tea with me?"
"Not today.
I'm so tired, I've been to church."
Such folk say.

All the dreary afternoon
I must clutch
At the strength to love like them,
Not too much.

28.11.1915