And when Thou loosest me to go Diffused into Thy world below, May I, till drip of words shall cease, Sing of Refreshment, Light and Peace; And, poured into the Time’s abyss, Revive one blossom for Thy bliss.

INDEX TO FIRST LINES

PAGE
The brook along the Romsey road[ 3]
A portly Wood-louse, full of cares[ 5]
When the wind blows without the garden walls[ 7]
How late in the wet twilight doth that bird[ 8]
Of Sorrow, ’tis as Saints have said[ 9]
Within our garden walls you see[10]
The fuchsias dangle on their stem[11]
My night-dress hangs on fire-guard rail[12]
While I stand upon the pavement and I dress the dusty stall[13]
When by the fire-light Dulcibel[15]
Whom meet we, Betsey, in the wood?[16]
How few alack[17]
’Tis the old wife at Rickling, she[19]
Pull out my couch across the fire[21]
When the Wind comes up the lane[22]
What dusky branches fret the yellow sky[23]
Three candles had her cake[25]
The Baby slumbers through the night[26]
With a full house of other folks[27]
He who a mangold-patch doth hoe[30]
Throw up the cinders, let the night wear through[31]
When elm-buds turn from red to green[32]
Vainly, my Betsey, to the weeping day[34]
O the trucks that leave Southampton bring a smell of twine and tar[36]
When the young Spring in Betsey’s fingers sets[38]
Permit, Dear Sir, that the judicious grieve[39]
’Twas bought in Bruges, the shop was poor[41]
The sun sank, and the wind uprist whose note[43]
My Betsey-Jane it would not do[45]
In Bethlehem Town by lantern light[46]
Playthings my Betsey hath, the snail’s cast shell[48]
I am not lightly moved, my grief was dumb[49]
You taught me ways of gracefulness and fashions of address[51]
You that have fenced about my storm-swept ways[52]
Pardon, Dear Sir, if with intrusive pen[53]
When I was small, great joy it was to see[56]
We came on Christmas Day[57]
On the high frosty fields afoot at dawn[59]
Now night hath fallen on the little town[60]
Dear, the delightful world I see[61]
So ’tis your will to have a cell[63]
My Sorrow diligent would sweep[65]
Here lies A. B. who, four years from her birth[67]
On the painted bridge at Mottisfont above the Test I’ve stood[70]
It is told of the painter Da Vinci[72]
Follow, my Betsey-Jane, as best you can[75]
Scarce hath the crookèd scythe[77]
Four-paws, the kitten from the farm[79]
Four-paws, we know the sun is white[81]
Time, cunning smith, hath set you in my heart[83]
I saw myself encircled in the grey[84]
Now candle-flames disperse the rout[86]
In Sarum Close, when she had said her say[87]
O thou who ’neath the umbrageous trees[88]
The world’s a quarry for whose spoils[89]
Whiffin, with all thy faults, I love thee still[90]
An old white Jocko, kindly and urbane[91]
By brook and bent[98]
So now my Thames is fairly on the turn[100]
So, dear, have you and Nurse conspired[101]
Four alders guard a bridge of planks[103]
Quite given o’er to shameful destinies[105]
O valiant reach of land that doth include[105]
The shop-girl in my fingers laid[107]
The common pavement dull and grey[108]
She ate her oat-cake by the fire[109]
Here, Betsey, where the sainfoin blows[110]
You to whose soul a death propitious brings[112]
The mallow blooms in late July[117]
Now Hertha hath, without a doubt[118]
Prythee what mad contentments canst thou find[119]
When Sir Matho lay a-dying and his feet were growing cold[120]
Yourself in bed[124]
Lord, when to Thine embrace I run[126]

SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS

“A poem by Mrs. Helen Parry Eden, ‘A Suburban Night’s Entertainment,’ is in itself good enough to sustain the Englishwoman’s reputation as a judge of verse.”

“A delightful fable.”

“The most sensational feature of this number.”