Poem: The Mediocre Poet by Zora Cross

I long to lie a long time still and lone
In this green valley under this blue sky.
I think the air, the day, the grass, and I
May breathe some secret to all else unknown.
I have a kinship with the leaves down blown
I shared with them when I was two feet high.
The very tremor of the breeze's sigh
Trembles in me and seems to be my own.

I shall lie here and wait and listen long,
And look and wonder, steal from laggard time
This air, this day, this grass, and make for you,
Stronger than life itself, a little song.
What shall I say more than this single rhyme:
"How green this valley is, this sky how blue?"

First published in The Sydney Mail, 12 August 1925