Alternatives
A. Mary F. Robinson
1857 to 1944
Dearest, should I love you more
If you understood me?
If, when I am sick and sore,
Straightway you divined wherefore,
Then with herbs and healing store
Of your love imbued me?
Nay, I have instead, you know,
In your heart an arbour
Where the great winds never go
That about my spirit blow.
Where the sweet wild roses grow,
Sweeter thrushes harbour.
What a joy at last to rest
Safe therein from sorrow!
What a spur, when sore distressed,
To at last attain your breast!
When the night is loneliest
What a hope of morrow!
A. Mary F. Robinson's Alternatives
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