Heart Ache by Mabel Forrest

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Soft winds, and little memories of flowers
And silken skirts drawn over polished floors,
And waft of fans and maze of meodies
Golden and low; of smiling, parted lips
And eyes that seem to ask, and turn away;
Feather of shadows on green, slumberous lawns;
Quiver of roses waiting for the rain;
Nasturtiums streaked with orange fingering;
Clouds pale as phantoms, fleeing from the moon,
And silver stars that sprinkle midnight moods;
Ripples, that almost reached me, of bird song
Revealed by leaves that rustle without touch;
Notes in the distance of a trumpet's call;
The sound of waters dripping to a pool
From unseen fountains in an unseen wood.

Only one thing is real and all my own --
That I can feel, alive within my breast....
The pictures fade, the music falls asleep,
The tapping heels have fled the waxed floors --
Only my heart-ache seems to fill the world!

First published
in The Bulletin, 12 October 1916

Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on October 12, 2012 7:12 AM.

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