I count the days until I see you,… But the days only. I dare not reckon up the nights an… I shall be lonely. But when at last I meet you, dear…

Little girls, You are gay, Little factory girls, At the end of your day. There you stand,

I wish you’d seen that dirty littl… Finger at nose, Peeking and ginking at some girls… Seated on the high window-sills to… One of the girls had hair as brigh…

There’s a band in the street, ther… It will play you a tune for a penn… It will play you a tune, you a tun… And you, though you haven’t got an… For the music’s free, and the musi…

A bunch of lilac and a storm of ha… On the same afternoon! Indeed I k… Here in the South it always happe… That lilac is companioned by the g… I took some hailstones from the wi…

Today, in class, I read aloud to forty little boys The legend of King Croesus’ boast… They were so young, Restless, and eager, I believed t…

This year I have seen autumn with… Glimpsed hitherto undreamt of myst… In the slow ripening of the town-b… Horse-chestnut lifting wide hands… And silver beech turned gold now w…

I’m not his wife. I am his paramo… His wayside love, picked up in jou… Rose of the hedgerows; fragrant, t… Me down beside the ditch, a droope… Some country boy may stick into hi…

Every day Miss Mary goes her roun… Through the splendid house and thr… Looking if the kitchen table’s whi… Seeing if the great big fire’s ali… Finding specks on shining pans and…

Those must be masts of ships the g… On through the little gap in the p… So far away that seeing almost fai… Those must be masts, the lovely ma… Stripped bare of sails.

I sit at my machine, Hour long beside me Vera aged nin… Babbles her sweet and innocent tal… Her boy, she hopes, will prove Unlike his father in the act of lo…

I made a heaven for you filled wit… Each star a song Meant to give happy music to your… Day and night long. But in your workshop you are close…

My window pane is broken Just a bit Where the small curtain doesn’t Cover it. And in the afternoon

When I am so worn out I cannot sl… And yet I know I have to work nex… Or lose my job, I sometimes have… To one long dead, who listens when… I ask Saint Rose of Lima for the…

He looks in my heart and the image… Is himself, himself, than himself… And he thinks of my heart as a mir… To reflect the image I hold most… But my heart is much more like a s…