Vale! Sweet singer of the different song!
Fair lays, young with Elizabethan dew,
You won from Rime's rare fields, known to how few
Who scatter Fancy's lyric seeds along!
Your darling love, the sea, with tall ships strong,
Perchance gave you your gallant, boyish view.
No mere girl-writer you! Your vision blue
Swept far horizons with a rollicking throng.
Yet am I stretched apart this April day
With stinging tears for Poesy's sad loss;
My heart cleft open with a sorrow wide,
As once it knew when midst blithe childhood play,
I lay grief-strlcken on my fairy moss,
Because a little book-girl, "Judy," died.
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 5 April 1930
Fair lays, young with Elizabethan dew,
You won from Rime's rare fields, known to how few
Who scatter Fancy's lyric seeds along!
Your darling love, the sea, with tall ships strong,
Perchance gave you your gallant, boyish view.
No mere girl-writer you! Your vision blue
Swept far horizons with a rollicking throng.
Yet am I stretched apart this April day
With stinging tears for Poesy's sad loss;
My heart cleft open with a sorrow wide,
As once it knew when midst blithe childhood play,
I lay grief-strlcken on my fairy moss,
Because a little book-girl, "Judy," died.
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 5 April 1930
