Through the Rain by Myra Morris

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The quiet rains drifts over,
   As grey as spreaders' strands,
Weaving a web that covers
   The emerald pasture-lands.

Behind it dream the fallows,
   The little lakes and rills,
And fields with tumbled hay-stacks
   That flank the rounded hills.

The quiet rain drifts over
   And shrouds my heart with grey --
But 'neath it lovely reaches
   Of joy are hid away!

First published in The Australian Woman's Mirror, 28 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 28, 2014 7:30 AM.

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