The South is a dream of flowers
With a jewel for sky and sea,
Rose-crowns for the dancing hours,
Gold fruits upon every tree;
But cold from the North The wind blows forth
That blows my love to me.
The stars in the South are gold
Like lamps between sky and sea;
The flowers that the forests hold.
Like stars between tree and tree;
But little and white Is the pale moon's light
That lights my love to me.
In the South the orange grove
Makes dusk by the dusky sea,
White palaces wrought for love
Gleam white between tree and tree,
But under bare boughs Is the little house
Warm-lit for my love and me.
St. Valentine's Day
About the poet
E. Nesbit
Edith Nesbit (married name Edith Bland; 15 August 1858 – 4 May 1924) was an English author and poet; she published her books for children under the name of E. Nesbit. She wrote or collaborated on more than 60 books of children's literature. She was also a pol…
View profile & all 35 Poems / StoriesMore from E. Nesbit
Spring In War-Time
Now the sprinkled blackthorn snowLies along the lover s lane
England
Shoulders of upland brown laid dark to the sunset's bosom,Living amber of wheat, and copper of new-ploughed loam,
The Fields Of Flanders
Last year the fields were all glad and gayWith silver daisies and silver may;
The Kiss
The snow is white on wood and wold,The wind is in the firs,
A Tragedy
Among his books he sits all dayTo think and read and write;
