POETRY.
C1TLGAI PADDOCK.
I irrrow that the tawny grass of the plain Is blown like the sea to-day By the wind that follows the autumn rain And chases the clouds away And ruffles the winding lagoon ; and now The sky's azure cool and clean Will show, in the lee where the rushes bow, Like shattered aquamarine.
To-day, when the cranes in their grey and pink Fish solemnly in the weeds, To-day, when the cattle come down to drink, And push through the whispering reeds, I stand there and watch them, in Culgai too, And they never heed or fear.
There is not one lark in the radiant blue Whose carol I do not hear.
This morning the wind on the grasses brown Blows tingling and sweet and rare . . . .
Now, though my body must tarry in town, Praise be that my soul is there!
Previous page
