Farewell, A
by: Charlotte Mew (1869 - 1928)
Remember me and smile, as smiling too,
I have remembered things that went their way--
The dolls with which I grew too wise to play--
Or over-wise--kissed, as children do,
And so dismissed them; yes, even as you
Have done with this poor piece of painted clay--
Not want only, but wisely, shall we say?
As one who, haply, tunes his heart anew.
Only I wish her eyes may not be blue,
The eyes of a new angel. Ah! she may
Miss something that I found,--perhaps the clue
To those long silences of yours, which grew
Into one word. And should she not be gay,
Poor lady! Well, she too must have her day.
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Quoi Bon Dire, A
Absence
From A Window
I So Liked Spring
In The Fields
I Have Been Through The Gates
On The Road To The Sea
Sea Love
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