Storm Phantasy by E. J. Brady

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At dusk the wind rose,
   Wild, out of the west;
A wind the bush knows,
   But the sea knows best.

All night the wind blew,
   Strong, through the trees;
And tyrannically threw,
   Its might on the seas.

Resentful and loud,
   Torn forest lords grieved;
Rebellious, and proud,
   High waters upheaved.

"Their master am I!"
  The wind in his might,
Fierce lord of the sky,
   Proclaimed through the night.

"My power I use,
   Over seas, over lands,
And none shall refuse  
   My royal commands."

But somewhere out far,
   Far out from the sky,
The voice of a star
   Made mocking reply --

"The winds of the moon  
   Once flaunted as thou;
The winds of the moon,
   But, where are they, now?

"At one with thy proud
   Wind brothers of Mars,
Who blotted with cloud
   The light of the stars.

"Small servant of change --
   Our Master, sublime --
Thou shalt not outrange
   His limits of Time:

"Thy voice shall be stilled,
   Oh, boaster of Earth;
With death were instilled
   The seeds of thy birth.

"Beginnings and ends,
   Though neither may be.
Time gives not, but lends.
   To thee and to me."  

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 26 June 1937

Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography, Australian Poetry Library

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on June 26, 2012 9:00 AM.

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