Edith Nesbit (married name Edith Bland) was an English author and poet whose children's works were published under the name of E. Nesbit. She wrote or collaborated on over 60 books of fiction for children, several of which have been adapted for film and television. She was also a political activist and co-founded the Fabian Society, a precursor to the modern Labour Party.
Nesbit was born in 1858 at 38 Lower Kennington Lane in Kennington, Surrey (now part of Greater London), the daughter of an agricultural chemist, John Collis Nesbit, who died in March 1862, before her fourth birthday. Her sister Mary's ill health meant that the family moved around constantly ... more »
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Edith Nesbit Poems
PLAGUE take the dull and dusty town, Its paved and sordid mazes, Now Spring has trimmed her pretty gown With buttercups and daisies!
Child's Song in Spring
The Silver Birch is a dainty lady, She wears a satin gown;
Among his books he sits all day To think and read and write; He does not smell the new-mown hay, The roses red and white.
My window, framed in pear-tree bloom, White-curtained shone, and softly lighted: So, by the pear-tree, to my room Your ghost last night climbed uninvited.
The snow is white on wood and wold, The wind is in the firs, So dead my heart is with the cold, No pulse within it stirs,
1 It's all for nothing: I've lost im now. 2 I suppose it ad to be: 3 But oh I never thought it of im, 4 Nor e never thought it of me.
Now the Spring is waking, Very shy as yet, Busy mending, making Grass and violet.
The Maiden's Prayer
SPRING, pretty Spring, what treasure do you bring to me? Green grass and buttercups, cherry-bloom and may?
St. Valentine's Day
The South is a dream of flowers With a jewel for sky and sea, Rose-crowns for the dancing hours, Gold fruits upon every tree;
FAREWELL! How soon unmeasured distance rolls Its leaden clouds between our parted souls! How little to each other now are we--
A Garden Of Girls
KATE is like a violet, Gertrude's like a rose, Jane is like a gillyflower smart; But Laura's like a lily, the purest bud that blows,
Age To Youth
Sunrise is in your eyes, and in your heart The hope and bright desire of morn and May. My eyes are full of shadow, and my part
Does the wind sing in your ears at night, in the town, Rattling the windows and doors of the cheap-built place? Do you hear its song as it flies over marsh and down? Do you feel the kiss that the wind leaves here on my face?
A Kentish Garden
THERE is a grey-walled garden, far away From noise and smoke of cities, where the hours Pass with soft wings among the happy flowers,
Comments about Edith Nesbit
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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PLAGUE take the dull and dusty town,
Its paved and sordid mazes,
Now Spring has trimmed her pretty gown
With buttercups and daisies!
With half my heart I long to lie
Among the flowered grasses,
And hear the loving leaves that sigh
As their sweet Mistress passes.
Through picture-shows I make my way
While flower-crowned maids go maying,
And all the cultured things I say
That cultured folk are saying.
For I renounce Spring's darling face,
With may-bloom fresh upon it:
My Mistress lives in Grosvenor-place