Desert Bred by Mabel Forrest

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Pent in a garden of flowers; grown drunk with the wine of the rose,
   In the damp gold cups of lilies the night moths make their homes;  
And over the sodden grasses, where the squandering fountain flows,
   From the mouth of the graven lion, the smell of the desert comes.

A boat goes up to Philae with a shadowy pointed sail;
   The wind of muffled, valleys has sped the craft along,
From the deck a drift of laughter: then the slender reed pipes trail
   Over the twilight waters a quivering link of song.    

Figs that the red wasp harried, palms with their rasping sigh;    
   Owls by the Little Window where the grape vines stand;  
But beyond the leafy ramparts, the Nile is wandering by,
   And though I wade thro' grasses, my feet shall find the sand.

First published in The Australasian, 31 May 1924

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on May 31, 2014 9:54 AM.

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