Monday, 13 March 2017

Poetry Revisited: White Sunshine by Lesbia Harford

LXXIII
White Sunshine

(from The Poems of Lesbia Harford: 1941)

The sun’s my fire
Golden, from a magnificence of blue
Should be its hue.

But woolly clouds
Like boarding-house old ladies, come and sit
In front of it.

White sunshine, then,
That has the frosty glimmer of white hair,
Freezes the air.

They must forget,
So self-absorbed are they, so very old
That I'll be cold.

Lesbia Harford (1891-1927)
Australian poet, novelist and political activist

2 comments:

  1. This struck a chord with me. We had lots of white sunshine this winter.

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    Replies
    1. Indeed, it's an atmospheric poem, but I chose it above all because the individual stanzas reminded me of haiku... and those I love.

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