The Widow in the Bye Street

by John Masefield

Dully they watch her, then they turn to go

To that high Shropshire upland of late hay;

Her singing lingers with them as they mow,

And many times they try it, now grave, now gay,

Till, with full throat, over the hills away,

They lift it clear; oh, very clear it towers

Mixed with the swish of many falling flowers.

'The Widow in the Bye Street' first appeared in The English Review for February 1912. I thank the editor and proprietors of the Review for permitting me to reprint it here.

The persons and events described in the poem are entirely imaginary, and no reference is made or intended to any living person.

JOHN MASEFIELD.
10*th May* 1912.