Charlotte Mew quotes

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Because all night you have not turned to us or spoken
It is time for you to wake;
This is only a most piteous pretense of sleep!
And if I may not walk in th' old ways and look on
th' old faces
I wud sooner sleep.
An' him no more to me nor me to him
Than the wind goin' over my hand.
She does the work about the house
As well as most, but like a mouse:
Oh! my God! the down,
The soft young down of her, the brown,
The brown of her--her eyes, her hair, her hair . . .
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