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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355384" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In Nunhead Cemetary</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is the clay what makes the earth stick to his spade;<br>He fills in holes like this year after year;<br>The others have gone; they were tired, and half afraid<br>But I would rather be standing here;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is nowhere else to go. I have seen this place<br>From the windows of the train that's going past<br>Against the sky. This is rain on my face -<br>It was raining here when I saw it last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is something horrible about a flower;<br>This, broken in my hand, is one of those<br>He threw it in just now; it will not live another hour;<br>There are thousands more; you do not miss a rose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One of the children hanging about<br>Pointed at the whole dreadful heap and smiled<br>This morning after THAT was carried out;<br>There is something terrible about a child.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We were like children last week, in the Strand;<br>That was the day you laughed at me<br>Because I tried to make you understand<br>The cheap, stale chap I used to be<br>Before I saw the things you made me see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This is not a real place; perhaps by-and-by<br>I shall wake - I am getting drenched with all this rain:<br>To-morrow I will tell you about the eyes of the Chrystal Palace train<br>Looking down on us, and you will laugh and I shall see what you see again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not here, not now. We said 'Not yet<br>Across our low stone parapet<br>Will the quick shadows of the sparrows fall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But still it was a lovely thing<br>Through the grey months to wait for Spring<br>With the birds that go a-gypsying<br>In the parks till the blue seas call.<br>And next to these, you used to care<br>For the Lions in Trafalgar Square,<br>Who'll stand and speak for London when her bell of Judgement tolls -<br>And the gulls at Westminster that were<br>The old sea-captains souls.<br>To-day again the brown tide splashes step by step, the river stair,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the gulls are there!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">By a month we have missed our Day:<br>The children would have hung about<br>Round the carriage and over the way<br>As you and I came out.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We should have stood on the gulls' black cliffs and heard the sea<br>And seen the moon's white track,<br>I would have called, you would have come to me<br>And kissed me back.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You have never done that: I do not know<br>Why I stood staring at your bed<br>And heard you, though you spoke so low,<br>But could not reach your hands, your little head;<br>There was nothing we could not do, you said,<br>And you went, and I let you go!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now I will burn you back, I will burn you through,<br>Though I am damned for it we two will lie<br>And burn, here where the starlings fly<br>To these white stones from the wet sky - ;<br>Dear, you will say this is not I -<br>It would not be you, it would not be you!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If for only a little while<br>You will think of it you will understand,<br>If you will touch my sleeve and smile<br>As you did that morning in the Strand<br>I can wait quietly with you<br>Or go away if you want me to -<br>God! What is God? but your face has gone and your hand!<br>Let me stay here too.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When I was quite a little lad<br>At Christmas time we went half mad<br>For joy of all the toys we had,<br>And then we used to sing about the sheep<br>The shepherds watched by night;<br>We used to pray to Christ to keep<br>Our small souls safe till morning light - ;<br>I am scared, I am staying with you to-night -<br>Put me to sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I shall stay here: here you can see the sky;<br>The houses in the street are much too high;<br>There is no one left to speak to there;<br>Here they are everywhere,<br>And just above them fields and fields of roses lie -<br>If he would dig it all up again they would not die.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charlotte+Mary+Mew">Charlotte Mary Mew</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355384" data-title="In Nunhead Cemetary de Charlotte Mary Mew" data-description="It is the clay what makes the earth stick to his spade;
He fills in holes like this year after year;
The others have gone; they were tired, and half afraid
But I would rather be standing here;

There is nowhere else to go. I have seen this place
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