The Lost Ideal by Mabel Forrest

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You passed through my life like a breeze in spring 
That through woodland ways goes wantoning; 
'Tis strange to remember so slight a thing 
   With a memory all undying --
Just a glimpse of white and a gleam of gold, 
And the rose's heart when the leaves unfold, 
The brow and hair, and the lips' sweet mould,
   And a smile unsatisfying.   

You fled away like the dew at dawn, 
Or the evening's amber, or rose of morn -- 
Too fair a thing for a man to scorn, 
   Yet naught to repay the holding -- 
With a laugh that was lost in a stifled sigh, 
While I stretched vain hands with a yearning cry, 
For your wings swept low, as you fluttered by, 
   All the warmth of their white unfolding. 

I shall seek for ever by mount and plain, 
But never on earth shall I find again, 
Tho' I toil through sunshine, or strive thro' rain,
   Or drift to a hopeless goal; 
For it maddens a man who but once has seen 
The hanging hair with the eyes between, 
Who has drunk of the draught of the Lotus Queen 
   That springs from the golden bowl.

First published in The Queenslander, 14 August 1897

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of Biography

See also

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on August 14, 2014 7:34 AM.

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