Athwart the last sunflowers
Across the valleys fold,
The sunlight pours bright showers
Of shining April gold.
Gold on the sleepy ridges,
Gold on the creek that twines
Beneath the mossy bridges
And green blackberry vines.
Gold where the groups of hoary
Old pines keep watch and warden,
Gold on the patchwork glory
Of my gay coloured garden.
Where autumn draws a hazy
Gold pattern down the walks,
Past sprays of Easter daisy
And nodding dahlia stalks.
Pale filtered gold that shivers
Through boughs by south winds pressed,
Before the first star quivers,
A gold flake in the west.
For days when keen winds racket
Down ways grown chill and cold,
If I could keep a packet
Of airy April gold.
First published in The Brisbane Courier, 22 March 1930
Author reference site: Austlit
See also.
Across the valleys fold,
The sunlight pours bright showers
Of shining April gold.
Gold on the sleepy ridges,
Gold on the creek that twines
Beneath the mossy bridges
And green blackberry vines.
Gold where the groups of hoary
Old pines keep watch and warden,
Gold on the patchwork glory
Of my gay coloured garden.
Where autumn draws a hazy
Gold pattern down the walks,
Past sprays of Easter daisy
And nodding dahlia stalks.
Pale filtered gold that shivers
Through boughs by south winds pressed,
Before the first star quivers,
A gold flake in the west.
For days when keen winds racket
Down ways grown chill and cold,
If I could keep a packet
Of airy April gold.
First published in The Brisbane Courier, 22 March 1930
Author reference site: Austlit
See also.
