I never look upon the azure sky,
But she draws softly near,
And whispers in my ever-list'ning ear
Of wondrous realms on high.
The darling clouds may be a thousand things,
A lovely maiden fair,
A battlefield, fierce men that do and dare
A snow-white angel's wings.
I never gaze far out across the deep,
But mockingly she tells
Of fabled lands afar and half compels
My longing heart to weep.
I cannot sit alone at all, but lo!
She makes some queen of me,
With fame and beauty rare. On bended knee
The whole wide world bows low.
She is my dearest playmate; well, I know,
And yet much as I love
I think I'd give the world and skies above
To let her sometimes go.
First published in The Australian Town and Country Journal, 4 January 1911
