FRANCES CORNFORD

The shadows flickering, the daylight dying,

And I upon the old red sofa lying,

The great brown shadows leaping up the wall,

The sparrows twittering; and that is all.

I thought to send my soul to far-off lands,

Where fairies scamper on the windy sands,

Or where the autumn rain comes drumming down

On huddled roofs in an enchanted town.

But O, my sleepy soul, it will not roam,

It is too happy and too warm at home:

With just the shadows leaping up the wall,

The sparrows twittering; and that is all.

I ran out in the morning, when the air was clean and new,

And all the grass was glittering and grey with autumn dew,

I ran out to the apple tree and pulled an apple down,

And all the bells were ringing in the old grey town.

Down in the town, off the bridges and the grass

They are sweeping up the leaves to let the people pass,

Sweeping up the old leaves, golden-reds and browns,

While the men go to lecture with the wind in their gowns

I wakened on my hot, hard bed;

Upon the pillow lay my head;

Beneath the pillow I could hear

My little watch was ticking clear.

I thought the throbbing of it went

Like my continual discontent,

I thought it said in every tick:

I am so sick, so sick, so sick;

O death, come quick, come quick, come quick,

Come quick, come quick, come quick, come quick.