Dead Stars by Peter Airey

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They tell us yonder new-found star
   That beams on mortal bowers,
It needed half ten thousand years
   To reach this Earth of ours.

And yet -- O strange! -- it may by now
   Be dead in ashes cold,
And quenched may be the tender ray
   That tints our Night with gold.

And so, perchance, thy word may shine
   What time thy life is o'er,
And send abroad a silver sign
   To light a distant shore.

Ay, so, perchance, may proudly gleam,
   When thou hast left this clime,
The mem'ry of thy noble deed
   Adown the deeps of Time!

First published in The Bulletin, 17 February 1921

Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on February 17, 2012 1:09 PM.

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