- by Charlotte Mary Mew 24Remember me and smile, as smiling too,
I have remembered things that went their way--
The dolls with which I grew too wise to play--
Or over-wise--kissed, as children do,
And so dismissed them; yes, even as yoy
Have done with this poor piece of painted clay--
Not wantonly, but wisely, shall we say?
As one who, haply, tunes his heart anew.
Only I wish her eyes may not be blue,
The eyes of a new angel. Ah! she may
Miss something that I found,--perhaps the clue
To those long silences of yours, which grew
Into one word. And should she not be gay,
Poor lady! Well, she too must have her day.
My Heart is Lame
- by Charlotte Mary Mew 19My heart is lame with running after yours so fast
Such a long way,
Shall we walk slowly home, looking at all the things we passed
Home down the quiet evening roads under the quiet skies,
Not saying much,
You for a moment giving me your eyes
When you could bear my touch.
But not to-morrow. This has taken all my breath;
Then, though you look the same,
There may be something lovelier in Love's face in death
As your heart sees it, running back the way we came;
My heart is lame.
Poems by Charlotte Mary Mew, Charlotte Mary Mew's poems collection. Charlotte Mary Mew is a classical and famous poet (15 November 1869 - 24 March 1928 / London). Share all poems of Charlotte Mary Mew.
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