Frances Cornford (1886-1960) grandaughter of Charles Darwin and great niece of William Wordsworth, began writing poetry in her early teens. She married Francis Cornford, Professor of Ancient Philosophy at Cambridge University, and made their home a gathering place for writers and artists. Rupert Brooke was one of her closest friends. She began to publish her poems in 1910. The Collected Poems were published in 1954 by The Cresset Press, Ltd. of London. Her writing style has been described as Georgian, and she was uninfluenced by the likes of Pound and Eliot. Many of her poems describe scenes in and around Cambridge. Here's a fourteener she wrote when quite a young girl.
Autumn Morning at Cambridge
I ran out in the morning when the air was clean and new,
And all the grass was glittering, grey with autumn dew,
I ran out to the apple trees and pulled an apple down,
And all the bells were ringing in the old grey town.
Down in the town, off the bridges and the grass,
They are sweeping up the leaves to let the people pass,
Sweeping up the old leaves, golden-reds and browns,
While the men go to lecture with the wind in their gowns.
And another early piece:
The Watch
I wakened on my hot, hard bed,
Upon the pillow lay my head;
Beneath the pillow I could hear
My little watch was ticking clear.
I thought the throbbing of it went
Like my continual discontent;
I thought it said in every tick:
I am so sick, so sick, so sick;
O Death, come quick, come quick, come quick,
Come quick, come quick, come quick, come quick.
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