That is a city's very breath of being;
After now this, now that, gay phantom fleeing,
Till so much splendour dazzled my poor sight.
I thought to find her clad in robes so bright
That I could never pass her by unseeing;
And other seekers, all in thought agreeing,
Were blind to her -- so simply gowned in white.
Not in loud music, leading dancing feet,
But in low bird-calls on a peaceful eve;
Not in gay concourses where idlers meet,
But in some corner soothing hearts that grieve --
Where tears, as well as transient joy, abide
Shall I find pleasure walking by my side.
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 20 July 1929
Author reference site: Austlit