The Wind by Kathleen Dalziel

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The wind leaped up from the sea, strong voiced and exultant.  
   Tearing the pride of the blossom to tatters of pearl,
And the white gulls are scattered like petals about, and to windward
   The grey ribboned wrack wreaths unfurl.

Crazing the she-oaks again with its aeons old malice,
   Spurring the waves on their useless and passionate quest,
Till, like a thousand pale roses slow fading and fallen,
   Day withers away in the west.

Over the darkness a silvery pallor already
   Tinging the tops of the waters, where veiled and in vain,
Over the sea wall, white shapes leap up through the unsteady 
   Flurry of wandering rain.

Round, red, and wonderful, over the tumbling riot,
   Rises the moon, in the mist of her vapours entwined,
And night's dusky realm is suddenly rocked into quiet
   With the low fallen hush of the wind.

First published in The Brisbane Courier, 7 December 1929

Author reference site: Austlit

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on December 7, 2014 7:46 AM.

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