Skip to content
1861–1923

iv

Maurice Henry Hewlett

Give thanks, you maids, that there's your work To keep your heart and head From thoughts that lurk in them who shirk Their daily round to tread.

But she goes bold who feels the hold And colour of her love Laid on her task like water-gold From the lit sky above.

Cookies on Poetry Cove

We use cookies to remember your language preference and — only with your consent — to learn how Poetry Cove is used. You can change your mind any time.