Lesbia Harford: Verses about Home

Every night I hurry home to see
If a letter's there from you to me.
Every night I bow my head and say,
'There's no word at all from him today.'

I'd like to spend long hours at home
With a small child to bother me.
I'd take her out to see the shops
And fuss about my husband's tea.
Instead of this I spend my days
In noisy schoolrooms, harsh and bare.
Unloved am I, since people give
Too many children to my care.

I thought I heard something move in the house
When I was alone in bed.
And I was afraid . . . and I was afraid . . .
I lay—I quaked for dread.
Then all of a sudden the rain began
And I knew that the sound I'd heard
Was only the sound of the coming of rain.
Me, I've the heart of a bird!

I dreamt last night of happy home-comings.
Friends I had loved and had believed were dead
Came happily to visit me and said
I was a part of their fair home-coming
It's strange that I should dream of welcomings
And happy meetings when my love, last week
Returned from exile, did not even speak
Or write to me or need my welcoming.