The Moon Path by Mabel Forrest

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The moon has found the path between the trees;
   The moon has peopled it with silver dreams,
   And those who wake at night to see in its gleams
The fragile wraiths of vanished destinies --
   High destinies that Time has diced away,
   And then dissolved upon the board of Day.

Between the dusky wavering of the pines,
   Between the subtle tenderness of leaves,
   The queen who lost her heritage believes
That on her brow the vanished circlet shines,
   And bears right proudly in that moonlit dell
   The small white neck that met the axe so well.

Or the great Corsican, with hand inthrust,
   Rules the still world with condescending smile
   That keeps no shadow of a lonely isle,
Or broken battlefields where snapped swords rust,
   As, hurrying, when friendly branches lean,
   He holds a passionate tryst with Josephine.

But there is one no silver path shall greet,
   Nor whispering pines protect. Where he would come
   There stands a woman, and her mouth is dumb.
But she points always at the Bloody Feet
   That led the legions in a devil's dance
   Across the fields of Belgium and of France!

First published in The Bulletin, 15 May 1919

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 15, 2014 7:56 AM.

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