Lily-Land by Zora Cross

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When apples of laughter spill over the grass --
Gold dreams of sweet fruit as the bright hours pass --
I think of my playmates; I wish they were I
As up in the air I swing merrily high.

The air runs like water all over my face;
My hair blows out gaily as if in a race;
I pull at the ropes with a Hip-Hip Hooray!
And I think myself far, far away in my play.

I am over the gullies and over the trees
And over and over and over the seas;
The cows and the stockyards are lost at my feet --
I'm sailing and sailing to Lily-Land sweet.

And there I alight with a wild little cry,
Ah ho! I've swung over the stars in the sky.
I stay for a blue little minute; then back --
Back, back I swing home to the dust on the track.

First published in The Australian Woman's Mirror, 4 August 1925

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on August 4, 2014 7:33 AM.

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