January by Robert A. Smith

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Oh, the blessed warmth of the sun, and the smell of the grass and clover,
   And up in the blue of the sky the milky arc of the moon!
Here there is deep content, where the spreading pines bend over,
   And the brittle gorse-pods crack in the heat of the summer noon.

The bay is a sapphire shield, and the old red hulks are lying
   As still as the yellow isle on guard at the harbor's mouth;
Up on the silent hill-slope scarcely a breeze is sighing,
   Only a far high cloud drifts slowly to the south.

The manuka is abloom like snow that fell in December;
   Tall as a child of seven the flowering grasses stand;
And the flower of the flax is red -- oh, heart, 'tis a day to remember!
   And it's summer, summer summer, all over the happy land.

And where is there space for doubt, and where is there room for sorrow?
   Oh, summer of deep fulfilment, my heart is a flake of foam
On the sunlit crest of a wave of hope for the dawning morrow,
   When I'll wake to the certain knowledge of joy that is coming home!

First published in The Bulletin, 12 January 1922

Author: Nothing is known about the author of this poem.

Author reference site: Austlit

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on January 12, 2012 8:31 AM.

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