Exile by Myra Morris

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The rolling pasture-land slid green
      On every side.
The Cape-weed with its golden sheen
      Flaunts far and wide.
A depthless blue the floating sky! --
      Day after day
The bird sing joyously; but I
      Am far away,
Am far away from all the things
      I love most dear --
Wet, sweeping sands and flashing wings,
      Ships far and near;
Pale little Summer seas that break
      In golden bays;
Salt-bitten secret flowers that break
      Down windless ways!
I am far off! The old things call!
      I dare not hear!
The sound of seas that break and fall
      Rings in my ear
Like ghostly voices. Yet at night
      In dreams I tread
Those beaches lying warm and bright,
      Nor know them fled!
Pale tides and filmy flowers of foam,
      White waters heap
Around me then .... I am come home
      Only in sleep!

First published in The Australian Woman's Mirror, 6 December 1927

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on December 6, 2014 9:27 AM.

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