(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