O meadows, flower again! O wild birds, sing!
So I may tell you how bright ye be, how sweet!
O sea, splash up your spray at my lone feet
So I may sing and some small comfort bring
To him who cannot bridge imagining,
Who cannot see, who cannot hear, wind-fleet,
The chargers of the morning once more beat
Mad music from their very hooves for spring.
O let me tell how now the sap is up,
And every living thing, with promise stirred,
Trembles to exquisite adventures new,
As the fresh gold of the first buttercup
Till, heart of me, the very earth's a bird
Beating glad wings tumultuous in the blue.
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 27 October 1928
Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography, Old Qld Poetry
See also.
So I may tell you how bright ye be, how sweet!
O sea, splash up your spray at my lone feet
So I may sing and some small comfort bring
To him who cannot bridge imagining,
Who cannot see, who cannot hear, wind-fleet,
The chargers of the morning once more beat
Mad music from their very hooves for spring.
O let me tell how now the sap is up,
And every living thing, with promise stirred,
Trembles to exquisite adventures new,
As the fresh gold of the first buttercup
Till, heart of me, the very earth's a bird
Beating glad wings tumultuous in the blue.
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 27 October 1928
Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography, Old Qld Poetry
See also.
