WE wandered down the meadow way--
The path beside the hedge is shady,--
You did not see the silver may,
You talked of Art, my sweet blind Lady.
You talked of values and of tone,
Of square touch and New English crazes;
Could you not see we were alone,
Where God's hand paints the world with daisies?
You spoke of Paris and of Rome
And in the hedgerow's thorny shadows
A white-throat sang a song of home,
Of English lanes and English meadows.
You talked about the aims of Art
And how all Art must needs be moral;
I heard you with a sinking heart
And watched the waving crimson sorrel.
For when I found you had not heard
The song--nor seen the dewy clover,
I cared no more to find the word
Should make you hear and see a lover!
Rejected
Edith Nesbit
(1)
Poem topics: alone, god, heart, home, paris, silver, world, sweet, white, hear, hedge, touch, blind, square, lady, throat, crimson, meadow, song, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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