Poems by Enid Derham
Sorted by title, showing title and first line
Let others prate of Greece and Rome,
When the impatient spirit leaves behind
I leave the world to-morrow,
O city, look the Eastward way!
The Soul, of late a lovely sleeping child,
Coming down the mountain road
Miles and miles of quiet houses, every house a harbour,
My folk’s the wind-folk, it’s there I belong,