Moon of Gold by Myra Morris

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A moon of gold
   In mists of sky!
Across its face,
   Swans drifting by,
Far-fluting where the forest weaves
   An arabesque of inky leaves!
A plover's call!
   The lake's long sigh!
A moon of gold --
   And you and I!

A moon of gold,
   And ferns piled high!
From shadowy brake -
   A peeping cry!  
The night wind blowing near and near,
   Spilling soft sounds too small to hear!
And in the close
   Dark you and I,
Telling our dreams  
   Too grand to die!

When I am old
   (Yea, even I!)
I shall hark back,
   And in some sky
See once again that round gold moon --
   Hear echoing still the swans' wild tune...
But who was this
   That looked so high?
Who dreamed those dreams?  
   Oh, was it I?  

First published in The Australasian, 27 September 1924

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on September 27, 2014 7:28 AM.

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