THERE are some that go for love of a fightAnd some for love of a land,And some for a dream of the world set freeWhich they barely understand.A drearn of the world set free from Hate–But splendidly, one and all,Danger they drink as ’twere wine of LifeAnd jest as they reel and fall.Clean aims, rare…
With greedy licking around the trees;The fierce breath sears our eyes.From cores already grown furnace-hot –The logs are well alight!We fling more wood where the flameless heartIs throbbing red and white.The fire bites deep in that beating heart,The creamy smoke-wreaths oozeFrom cracks and knot-holes along the trunkTo melt in greys and blues.The young horned moon…
My flowers will never come to fruit, but I have kept my pride –A little, cold, and lonely thing, and I have naught beside.The spring-wind caught my flowering dreams, they lightly blew away.I never had but one true love, and he died yesterday.
Into a country of wondrous things,Enter we dreaming, and know we’re kings.Murmur or roar as it may, the streamLaughs to the youngster who dreams his dream.Leave him alone till his fool’s heart breaks:Dreams all are real till the dreamer wakes!
I turned away from it untilWork should be done and strife be still.My hands and head for use are free,Nor does my own life worry me,But docile as a spaniel waitsUntil this present stress abates.Tranquil it breathes, and waits, I know,With all its joy contained. But ohI hope when I have time to playMy life…
Where all thecolours are low in pitch –Deep purples, emeralds deep and rich,Where autumn’s flaming and summer’s green –Here is a beauty you have not seen.All is pitched in a higher key,Lilac, topaz, and ivory,Palest jade-green and pale clear blueLike aquamarines that the sun shines through,Golds and silvers, we have at will –Silver and gold…
And the creamy scented blossoms of the dark pittosporum trees,Grow sweeter with the coming of the night.And the harbour in the distance lies beneath a purple pall,And nearer, at the garden’s lowest fringe,Loud the water soughs and gurgles ’mid the rocks below the wall,Dark-heaving, with a dim uncanny tingeOf a green as pale as beryls,…
That their soft dyes have steeped my soul in colourThat will not pass away –Great saffron sunset clouds, and larkspur mountains,And fenceless miles of plain,And hillsides golden-green in that unearthlyClear shining after rain;And nights of blue and pearl, and long smooth beaches,Yellow as sunburnt wheat,Edged with a line of foam that creams and hisses,Enticing weary…
One far glimpse of open sea.Just a slender slipCurving like a crescent moon—Yet a greater prizeThan the harbour garden-fairSpread beneath my eyes.Just below me swings the bay,Sings a sunny tune,But my heart is far awayOut beyond the dune;Clearer far the sea-gulls’ cryAnd the breakers’ roar,Than the little waves beneathLapping on the shore.For that strip of…
When the sky is pink and greyAs the wings of a wild galah,And the last night-shadow ebbsFrom the trees like a falling tide,And the dew-hung spiderwebsOn the grass-blades spread far and wide –Each sharp spike loaded well,Bent down low with the heavy dew –Wait the daily miracleWhen the world is all made anew:When the sun’s…
