The Little Girl and the Thrush by Myra Morris

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Walking down the windy valley,
   Where the flowers were flung like spray
In the glimmering myrtle valley,
   Soon I tossed my hat away --
Laughed down places dark and shady,
   Clambered through the underbrush,
Till a voice came sweet, reproving,
Where the myrtle boughs were moving,
   "Be a lady,"
   Sang the thrush.

There was none to see or hear me --
   Off I pushed my cramping shoes --
Danced down leafy pathways near me
   Toward the valley's distant blues;
Danced down vistas damp and shady,
   Bare feet in the grasses lush,  
Where the earth was starred with yellow,
Still that voice came mocking, mellow,
   "Be a lady,"
   Sang the thrush.

First published in The Australasian, 15 October 1932

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on October 15, 2014 7:27 AM.

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