She does the work about the house
As well as most, but like a mouse:
Happy enough to chat and play
With birds and rabbits and such as they,
So long as men-folk keep away.

(Charlotte Mew (1870-1928), British poet. The Farmer's Bride (l. 20-24). . . Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse, The. Philip Larkin, ed. (1973) Oxford University Press.)

Oh! my God! the down,
The soft young down of her, the brown,
The brown of her?her eyes, her hair, her hair . . .

(Charlotte Mew (1870-1928), British poet. The Farmer's Bride (l. 44-46). . . Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse, The. Philip Larkin, ed. (1973) Oxford University Press.)

An' him no more to me nor me to him
Than the wind goin' over my hand.

(Charlotte Mew (1870-1928), British poet. Sea Love (l. 7-8). . . Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse, The. Philip Larkin, ed. (1973) Oxford University Press.)

And if I may not walk in th' old ways and look on
th' old faces
I wud sooner sleep.

(Charlotte Mew (1870-1928), British poet. Old Shepherd's Prayer (l. 17-19). . . Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse, The. Philip Larkin, ed. (1973) Oxford University Press.)

This is only a most piteous pretense of sleep!

(Charlotte Mew (1870-1928), British poet. Beside the Bed (l. 17). . . Oxford Book of Short Poems, The. P. J. Kavanagh and James Michie, eds. Oxford University Press.)

Because all night you have not turned to us or spoken
It is time for you to wake;

(Charlotte Mew (1870-1928), British poet. Beside the Bed (l. 12-13). . . Oxford Book of Short Poems, The. P. J. Kavanagh and James Michie, eds. Oxford University Press.)