Where are the dreams of our lost infancy
That lit with colour every grey, old day?
Where the romance that filled our morning way
And made a castle of a fallen tree?
Shall treasure ships go out no more to sea
Whose masts lie rank in some forgotten bay?
Shall no red pirates man the deck of play?
Nor green-eyed goblins down the forest flee?
Ah! child, that dreamed in lands of make-believe,
Building fern bridges for the fairies' feet,
Hiding in caves from some pale phantom fear,
Remembering still, I laugh. How can I grieve?
My childhood's faith in all things still is sweet;
I build its castles yet since Love is here.
First published in The Sydney Mail, 15 December 1920;
and later in
The Register, 19 February 1921.
