Charlotte Mew: Rooms
I remember rooms that have had their part
In the steady slowing down of the heart.
Charlotte Mew: The Cenotaph
Not yet will those measureless fields be green again
Where only yesterday the wild sweet blood of wonderful youth was shed
Charlotte Mew: A Quoi Bon Dire
Seventeen years ago you said
Something that sounded like Good-bye;
And everybody thinks that you are dead,
But I.
Charlotte Turner Smith: Sonnet Written in the Churchyard at Middleton in Sussex
She saw herself as a poet first and foremost, poetry at that period being considered the most exalted form of literature. Scholars now credit her with transforming the sonnet into an expression of woeful sentiment. Although an important writer and poet, Smith had a difficult family life and died in poverty, largely forgotten.
Edward Thomas: Rain
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Charlotte Mew: May 1915
Let us remember Spring will come again To the scorched, blackened woods, where the wounded trees Wait with their old wise patience for the heavenly rain, Sure of the sky: … Continue reading
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