Lute Strings by Mabel Forrest

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He played his lute at drowsy noon
   In the shadows of the towers;
Some cried he brought the lilt of birds
   And wind among the flowers;
And every gaffer swore that he
Had strung the lute with witchery!

The children heard no note of grief
   They danced upon the cobbled way
And laughed the strings were woven by
   Bright fairies making holiday --
But old folk, heeding close and long,
Thought there was weeping in the song.

One vowed the strings a woman's hair
   Of unforgotten gold;
One whispered of a wer-wolf's thews
   Torn from the churchyard mould:
But one pale maid, who stood apart,
Knew them drawn from her breaking heart.

First published in The Australian Woman's Mirror, 21 July 1925

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of Biography

See also

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on July 21, 2014 7:24 AM.

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