Charlotte Mary Mew (15 November 1869 – 24 March 1928 / London)
Poems of Charlotte Mary Mew
|2.||A Quoi Bon Dire||1/3/2003|
|5.||Fin de Fête||3/25/2012|
|6.||From a Window||1/3/2003|
|7.||I Have Been Through The Gates||1/3/2003|
|8.||I So Liked Spring||1/3/2003|
|9.||In Nunhead Cemetary||3/25/2012|
|10.||In The Fields||1/3/2003|
|12.||Madeline in Church||3/25/2012|
|13.||Monsieur Qui Passe||1/3/2003|
|15.||My Heart is Lame||1/3/2003|
|16.||Not For that City||3/25/2012|
|17.||On the Road to the Sea||1/3/2003|
The Farmer's Bride
Three summers since I chose a maid,
Too young maybe-but more's to do
At harvest-time that a bide and woo.
When us was wed she turned afraid
Of love and me and all things human;
Like the shut of winter's day
Her smile went out, and `twadn't a woman-
More like a little frightened fay.
One night, in the Fall, she runned away.