Pot Pourri by Mabel Forrest

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Between your ivory fingers fall
   The withered rose-leaves of the Spring;
The jar is delicately wrought --
   'Twas once the love-gift of a king.
Of royal blue the china is,
   Where scrolls of gold and silver cling.

And as the rose-leaves drift, your eyes
   Are deep and dark with coming tears;
Your unkissed mouth is tremulous
   From looking on the barren years,
As one who by a closing gate
   The distant, dying hoof-beats hears!

Oh, dry your eyes, Felise, and leave
   The withered petals, while you list
To tale of newly-budding flowers
   That break like dawning through the mist --
There are fresh lovers in the world
   And other kisses to be kist!

First published in The Bulletin, 21 April 1921

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on April 21, 2014 8:21 AM.

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