In a Belgian Garden and Other Poems

<SPAN name="maiden"></SPAN> <h3> A Lincolnshire Maiden </h3> <p class="poem"> Long the eastern beaches,<br/> <SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Where brown the seaweed grows,</SPAN><br/> And over broad salt meadows,<br/> <SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">The green tide ebbs and flows.</SPAN><br/></p> <p class="poem"> Above the low-roofed houses,<br/> <SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Two ancient towers rise,</SPAN><br/> And stand like giant druids,<br/> <SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Against the wind-swept skies.</SPAN><br/></p> <p class="poem"> Through mist or rain or sunshine,<br/> <SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Their prows festooned with foam,</SPAN><br/> The fishing-boats go outward<br/> <SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Or laden, turn them home.</SPAN><br/></p> <p class="poem"> She watches by the window,<br/> <SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">And tearless are her eyes;</SPAN><br/> She sees not church or tower,<br/> <SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Or sea or wind-swept skies.</SPAN><br/></p> <p class="poem"> She sees not tide or tempest,<br/> <SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Or sun or mist or rain;</SPAN><br/> Afar her spirit wanders<br/> <SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Upon the Belgian plain.</SPAN><br/></p> <p class="poem"> Where over shell-scarred cities<br/> <SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">The mad, red tempest raves,</SPAN><br/> And poplars sigh and shudder<br/> <SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Above unnumbered graves.</SPAN><br/></p> <br/><br/><br/> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />