The Dark Pines by Myra Morris

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The dark pines climbing up the hill
   With measured footsteps, never turning,
Are like black nuns, with faces dim
Against the sunset's yellow rim,
   Where altar-lamps are burning.

The dark pines climbing one by one
   Into some place enchanted
Are like thin, haggard ghosts that go
Down into dark no man may know,
   With weary mien, undaunted.

The dark pines wild against the sky,
   With restless arms a-swaying,
Are whispering, whispering far away --
And oh, I know, I know they say
   Just what my heart is saying!

First published in The Australian Woman's Mirror, 8 March 1927

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on March 8, 2014 7:42 AM.

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