Fantasy by Myra Morris

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By marble balustrades
   The purple peacocks gleam,
And palaces with white facades
   Beside the river dream.

The sea is pale as milk,
   For mast a peeled white rose,
A little ship with sails of silk
   Moves out; where, no man knows.

Slim turrets of delight,
   Of jade and ivory,
With tiny, twisting stairs of white,
   Beckon bewitchingly.

Down flowery woodland ways,
   Nude nymphs and sun-splashed fauns
Dance lightly where the syrinx plays
   Along unshaven lawns.

Pale mosques and minarets
   Of some lost Samarkand
Dream where the camel-driver sets
   His face unto the sand.

Across the sunset sky
   My soul has sped afar
To radiant realms, remote and high,
   And found the first frail star.

A myriad sights I see
   In this strange sunset-world,
Here, with my fancy floating free,
   Each eager sail unfurled.

I shall come back to earth,
   With all its fume and fret.
With all its foolish counts of worth --
   But not, ah no! not yet!

A little longer here
   To dream the hours away,
Where night -- dark flower without compeer --
   Buds on the stalk of day!

First published in The Bulletin, 30 June 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 June 30, 2014 7:25 AM.

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