Heart Ache by Mabel Forrest

| No TrackBacks
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.

No TrackBacks

TrackBack URL: http://www.middlemiss.org/cgi-bin/movabletype/mt-tb.cgi/2026

About this Entry

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

Cui Bono by Robert Adams was the previous entry in this blog.

Over the Hills by Christine Comber is the next entry in this blog.

Find recent content on the main index or look in the archives to find all content.

Categories

Powered by Movable Type 4.23-en