Poem: Lines for M. Forrest by E. M England

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(Died March 18, 1935)

She has put aside her lyre a little while
   She, the sweet singer, vendor of gay song;
She has put down her lyre, and with a smile
   Drifted to other fields, but not for long.

But not for long. Someday, where now she lingers
   She will grow weary, and will swiftly burn
To feel the strings again beneath her fingers,
   Then, like, a wandering minstrel, will return.  

She will return, with nuance and with laughter,
   Old echoes waking in the street and hill,
And all our kin and those who follow after
   Will know her note, and call her singer still!

First published in The Courier-Mail, 23 March 1935

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on October 29, 2011 8:04 AM.

Reprint: Mabel Forrest: Our Romantic Poetess was the previous entry in this blog.

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