IN THE HEYDAYS OF HIS EYES
(taut jeans dancing)

An Anthology of Poetry about Being Young and Growing Up
 
 
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AUTHORS


A RECOLLECTION

Frances Cornford

My father's friend came once to tea. He laughed and talked. He spoke to me. But in another week they said That friendly pink-faced man was dead. 'How sad...' they said, 'the best of men...' So I said too, 'How sad'; but then Deep in my heart I thought, with pride, 'I know a person who has died'.


CHILDHOOD

Frances Cornford

I used to think that grown-up people chose To have stiff backs and wrinkles round their nose, And veins like small fat snakes on either hand, On purpose to be grand. Till through the banisters I watched one day My great-aunt Etty's friend who was going away, And how her onyx beads had come unstrung. I saw her grope to find them as they rolled; And then I knew that she was helplessly old, And I was helplessly young.

 
 
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