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Poem by Eleanor Farjeon


A Song


It means so little to you
To sing a note as you pass,
To smile your thanks to the day
For donning its cloudless blue
And then to go your way,
And leave behind in the grass
The print of your little shoe
Or a petal dropt from your rose
And your touch on the vine that grows
Over my cottage door:
It is nothing at all to you.

But to me, it is alms to the poor,
And the light of day to the blind,
And hope to the desolate;
Though you never have once glanced through
The window where, half-defined,
Half-hidden, I watch and wait--
For it means so little to you.



Eleanor Farjeon


Eleanor Farjeon's other poems:
  1. Spring-Dawn
  2. Vagrant Songs
  3. The Last Week in September
  4. When You Say
  5. The Maid's Idyll


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • William Davenant A Song ("O thou that sleep'st like pig in straw")
  • Robert Binyon A Song ("For Mercy, Courage, Kindness, Mirth")
  • Mark Akenside A Song ("The Shape alone let others prize")
  • Richard Crashaw A Song ("Lord, when the sense of thy sweet grace")
  • Edwin Arnold A Song ("Once — and only once — you gave")
  • Oliver Holmes A Song ("WHEN the Puritans came over")
  • Lizette Reese A Song ("Oh, Love, he went a-straying")
  • George Crabbe A Song ("As Chloe fair, a new-made bride")
  • Helen Williams A Song ("No riches from his scanty store")
  • Alfred Douglas A Song ("Steal from the meadows, rob the tall green hills")
  • Barcroft Boake A Song ("I've a kiss from a warmer lover")

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