Harold Monro

(14 March 1879 - 16 March 1932 / Brussels)

Overheard On A Salmarsh - Poem by Harold Monro

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?
Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?
Give them me.
No.
Give them me. Give them me.
No.
Then I will howl all night in the reeds,
Lie in the mud and howl for them.

Goblin, why do you love them so?

They are better than stars or water,
Better than voices of winds that sing,
Better than any man's fair daughter,
Your green glass beads on a silver ring.

Hush, I stole them out of the moon.
Give me your beads, I want them.
No.

I will howl in the deep lagoon
For your green glass beads, I love them so.
Give thme me. Give them.
No.


Comments about Overheard On A Salmarsh by Harold Monro

  • Rookie Laurie Mctaggart (5/18/2012 3:14:00 AM)

    The most perfect little conversation I've ever heard. A favourite of mine since first reading it in the anthology 'This Way Delight'. (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Poem Edited: Monday, April 23, 2012


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