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…

You who are dead, Do you know They’ve dug up half the irises That used to grow Here in the quadrangle a year ago?

There’s a big park just close to w… Trees in a row And shaggy grass whereon the dead… And in the middle round a great la… The fair yachts sail

When I was still a child I thought my love would be Noble, truthful, brave, And very kind to me. Then all the novels said

He: That isn’t you. She: It’s me, in my blue skirt And scarlet coat and little golden… He: Not good enough. She: Well, burn it if you choose

My darling lies down in her soft w… And she laughs at me. Her laughter has flushed her pale… Her eyes dance with glee. My darling lies close in her warm…

One comes to love the little saint… As years go by. One learns to love the little sain… ‘O hear me sigh, St. Anthony,

I hated them when I was four year… The bright pink berries on the pep… And now they seem quite beautiful… My tower of dreams when I was fou… Was such a tree. Its branches hid…

I dreamt last night of happy home-… Friends I had loved and had belie… Came happily to visit me and said I was a part of their fair home-co… It’s strange that I should dream…

I read a statement in a newspaper That Twentyman, the manufacturer, Found it was cheaper to deliver go… By horse and lorry than by motor-t… Or motor-van. So he had sold his…

Sometimes I am too tired To think of you. Today was such a day, But then I knew Today, for certain, you’d be weary…

Today is rebels’ day. And yet we… All of us rebels, until day is don… And when the stars come out we cel… A revolution that’s not yet begun. Today is rebels’ day. And men in…

My friend declares Being woman and virgin she Takes small account of periodicity And she is right. Her days are calmly spent

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.

Dearest, dearest, Bother the slow hours That hold and keep me From the leafy bowers You make more lovely than a storm…