Sad Hour by Myra Morris

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My mind is like an empty sea, 
   As pale as ash, bereft of foam,
When every gull has winged away,
   And every ship has laboured home. 

O surging tides of hope, sweep in! 
   Rise up, rise up, O singing wind,
And blow some shining shape across
   The wan grey reaches of my mind.

First published in The Australasian, 7 July 1934

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 7, 2014 7:26 AM.

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