The Peddler

Charlotte Mew

1869 to 1928

Poem Image
Track 1

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Lend me, a little while, the key
Rarer than books and ribbons and beads bright to see,
There shall I walk and you go free of me,
How if we stopped and let our solemn selves go by,
For yours lies North across the moors,
That locks your heavy heart, and I’ll give you back—
Sat, and were twenty-two?
And by the wayside, this forgotten you and I
Give me the key that locks your tired eyes,
Take it. No, give it back!
And I will lend you this one from my pack,
The road, the road, beyond men’s bolted doors,
And mine lies South. To what seas?
While my gay ghost caught and kissed yours, as ghosts don’t do,
Brighter than colored beads and painted books that make men wise:
This little Key of Dreams out of my pack.

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