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Good Friday in my Heart

Good Friday in my Heart

GOOD FRIDAY in my heart! Fear and affright!

My thoughts are the Disciples when they fled,

My words the words that priest and soldier said,

My deed the spear to desecrate the dead.

And day, Thy death therein, is changed to night.

Then Easter in my heart sends up the sun.

My thoughts are Mary, when she turned to see.

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by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

Come Home!

Come Home!

When wintry winds are no more heard,

And joy's in every bosom,

When summer sings in every bird,

And shines in every blossom,

When happy twilight hours are long,

Come home, my love, and think no wrong!

When berries gleam above the stream

And half the fields are yellow,

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by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

To Memory

To Memory

Strange Power, I know not what thou art,

Murderer or mistress of my heart.

I know I'd rather meet the blow

Of my most unrelenting foe

Than live — as now I live — to be

Slain twenty times a day by thee.

Yet, when I would command thee hence,

Thou mockest at the vain pretence,

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by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

We Never Said Farewell

We Never Said Farewell

WE never said farewell, nor even looked

Our last upon each other, for no sign

Was made when we the linkèd chain unhooked

And broke the level line.

And here we dwell together, side by side,

Our places fixed for life upon the chart.

Two islands that the roaring seas divide

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by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

The Witch

The Witch

I HAVE walked a great while over the snow,

And I am not tall nor strong.

My clothes are wet, and my teeth are set,

And the way was hard and long.

I have wandered over the fruitful earth,

But I never came here before.

Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!

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by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

The Other Side Of A Mirror

The Other Side Of A Mirror

I sat before my glass one day,

And conjured up a vision bare,

Unlike the aspects glad and gay,

That erst were found reflected there -

The vision of a woman, wild

With more than womanly despair.

Her hair stood back on either side

A face bereft of loveliness.

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by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge