I hated them when I was four years old,
The bright pink berries on the pepper tree.
And now they seem quite beautiful to me.
My tower of dreams when I was four years old
Was such a tree. Its branches hid me well,
Although I so disliked the berries' smell.
I had my dreams when I was four years old . . .
But groundling now, who once could mount in air,
I judge the high-swung bright pink berries, fair.
More verses by Lesbia Harford
- Deliverance Through Art
- Today Is Rebels' Day. And Yet We Work
- Street Music
- Once I Thought My Love Was Worth The Name
- When Day Is Over