6045
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 PURPLE AND GOLD 
 
 POEMS AND LYRICS
 
 PURPLE AND GOLD 
 
 POEMS AND LYRICS 
 
 By 
 FRANK S. WILLIAMSON 
 
 MELBOURNE 
 THOMAS C. LOTHIAN 
 
 1912 
 PRINTED IN ENGLAND
 
 Printed by Butler and Tanner, JTome an 1 London
 
 PR 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 author des'res to thank the pro- 
 prietors of the Bulletin, Australia 
 To-Day, Heart of the Rose, and Trident for 
 permission to reprint the poems that have 
 appeared in the pages of their magazines. 
 
 He also gratefully acknowledges the help 
 and criticism given by Messrs. Bernard O'Dowd, 
 B. A. Levinson, and A. T. Strong ; indeed 
 without their help the book would not have 
 appeared. 
 
 His thanks are also due to E. H. Serle and 
 R. .H. Croll for their assistance so willingly 
 given. 
 
 He acknowledges his debt to Mr. L. A. 
 Adamson, of Wesley College, who has set 
 
 917987
 
 6 PREFACE 
 
 two of the songs to music, and made them 
 familiar to many Wesley boys. 
 
 In conclusion, the author states that he 
 is not ashamed that so many of the poems 
 included refer to Spring. 
 
 " Is it so small a thing, 
 To have lived light in the Spring ? " 
 
 He thinks not, especially in Australia.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 GUM TREES 9 
 
 CHRYSANTHEMUMS . . . . .13 
 
 DIRGE 15 
 
 THE SPRING WIND . . . . . 19 
 A GIPPSLAND MORNING IN EARLY SPRING . 21 
 BEFORE THE BOAT RACE . . . . 27 
 
 FLAG SONG .31 
 
 THE SWAGMAN, OR IN EXILE 33 
 
 THE MINER'S GRAVE 37 
 
 THE MAGPIE'S SONG 39 
 
 DREAMS 43 
 
 MIST AND MOON ...... 47
 
 8 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 DEW 49 
 
 SHE COMES AS COMES THE SUMMER NIGHT . 53 
 LOVB IN THE SOUTH . . . . 57 
 
 WHISPERS 59 
 
 THE GOLDEN FRUITAGE DROOPING NIGH . 61 
 
 GUITAR SONG '63 
 
 WHERE is MARIE ? WHERE is ROSE ? . -65 
 BLOOM UPON THE ROBIN'S BREAST . . 67 
 
 INCONSTANT LOVER 69 
 
 QUATRAIN 71 
 
 ON FALLING AT A LADY'S FEET AFTER A DANCE . 73 
 
 QUESTION 75 
 
 WIND AND WATTLE BLOSSOM ... 77 
 FOUNTAIN, BIRD AND STAR 81 
 
 RAPUNZEL ....... 83 
 
 THRUSHES . . . . -85
 
 GUM TREES 
 
 T ULLED by song of bird, and wind, melo- 
 
 ^"^ dies of seas ; 
 
 Waiting for the white man's foot, through the 
 centuries, 
 
 Pent in solitudes enchanted, dreamed the 
 mighty trees. 
 
 Empires blazed like forest fires, then in dark- 
 ness fell. 
 
 Other shores and Eldorados drew the caravel, 
 
 Till the sound of English voices broke the 
 slumber spell.
 
 io GUM TREES 
 
 Singing now by fallen Rome, under Grecian 
 
 sky, 
 Waving where Thermopylae, saw the heroes 
 
 die. 
 Roaming where young Helen trod, in her girlish 
 
 joy. 
 
 Ere the gods in battle joined on the plains of 
 Troy. 
 
 Wandering where paladins rode with Charle- 
 magne, 
 
 And of their sweet vernal leaves, Beauty's hands 
 are fain; 
 
 Beauty that the impress bears of sceptreless 
 Valois, 
 
 Gathers from the sapling crests rubied, amber 
 store.
 
 GUM TREES n 
 
 Following the caravans, roving in Algiers, 
 Gone the legions with their noise, Moorish 
 
 cavaliers ; 
 Chanting where proud Carthage stood dust 
 
 is all her pride. 
 By the shores that hear your anthem, how the 
 
 triremes glide. 
 
 Whispering by Shelley's tomb, by the grave of 
 Keats, 
 
 Listening while the loving wind every song 
 repeats. 
 
 Baring limbs whose loveliness dims the sculp- 
 tor's eye, 
 
 Daphnes fearless of the god, morning bringeth 
 nigh.
 
 12 GUM TREES 
 
 Careless of the nightingale ever singing near, 
 Sighing in their loneliness for the voices here, 
 Call of bell-bird by the stream, magpie hymn 
 
 at morn ; 
 In a land their fathers knew, not murmuring 
 
 forlorn. 
 
 Trysting ever with the morning, following the 
 
 sun. 
 Here if stolen sunlight gild them, there the day 
 
 begun 
 Tinging all my dreams with glory, as I hear 
 
 them sing 
 World ! to you may we the nation, grace and 
 
 beauty bring.
 
 CHRYSANTHEMUMS 
 
 \\ T HEN Autumn, mother of the Spring, 
 
 Her days of waiting, numbering, 
 Walks musing in my garden ways, 
 While scarlet robins chant her praise ; 
 Gay hosts of Oriental ftowers 
 Mass their battalions in my bowers. 
 Each year they make a sudden raid, 
 And take me in an ambuscade ; 
 Here on parole I must remain 
 Their captive through the whole campaign. 
 What shall I fear from foes like these, 
 Who use their weapons but to please ? 
 And what stern patriot cares to ban 
 These sweet invaders from Japan ? 
 The solemn gum-tree standing by, 
 
 13
 
 I 4 CHRYSANTHEMUMS 
 
 Allows their gorgeous ensigns nigh, 
 And skirmishing when gnats appear, 
 The fantail loves to linger near. 
 The English thrush sees their review, 
 Keeping to his alliance true, 
 He bayonets many a stealthy snail, 
 And strips the foemen of their mail. 
 The South wind, careless freelance comes 
 To serve with my chrysanthemums, 
 And dancing with the geisha girls, 
 Despoils them of their morning pearls, 
 Ah ! geisha girls ! not long you stay ; 
 You vanish with the Samurai, 
 Before a fusillade of rain. 
 Your dreams of conquest swiftly wane, 
 While polar blasts your banners tear, 
 Leaving the poles a moment bare, 
 Till prostrate in the sodden clay, 
 Lies vanquished all your proud array.
 
 DIRGE 
 
 OTREW the flowers at Love's behest 
 
 Meet for such a lovely guest ; 
 Coronal the sapling weaves, 
 Rainbows wrought by Spring of leaves. 
 Blackwood blossom, hither bring, 
 To perfume her slumbering. 
 
 Heap above the mountain tomb, 
 Scarlet, eucalyptus bloom, 
 Wreath of starry clematis, 
 Visited by Artemis ; 
 Bluebell garlands, hither bear 
 All the flowers, she loved to wear.
 
 16 DIRGE 
 
 Here the magpies love to croon. 
 From the dawn, to rising moon, 
 Flutes the sweet harmonious thrush, 
 In the early morning hush ; 
 Shyly sings the oriole, 
 All the day the bell-birds toll. 
 
 Softly moves the wind that blows, 
 When the Day's red petals close ; 
 And, remembering past delight, 
 Dream of her, the stars of night, 
 Though no more the stars arise, 
 Set within her darkened eyes. 
 
 Whisper wind, and glimmer star, 
 Blossom breathe thy sweet afar, 
 " Love intones the master word " 
 Is the song of every bird ; 
 Here, he stands with Death in thrall, 
 Keeping Beauty's festival.
 
 DIRGE 17 
 
 Rainbows made by Spring of leaves, 
 
 Rainbows touched by Spring to leaves, 
 
 Woven irises of leaves, 
 
 Made by Spring of rainbow leaves, 
 
 Consecrated rainbow leaves, 
 
 Vernal iridescent leaves.
 
 THE SPRING WIND 
 
 A BREEZE comes past me singing, and a 
 
 white cloud slow is swinging, 
 Like a poppy that is parting from a slender 
 
 hidden stem. 
 And September dear returning, wakes anew 
 
 the old, old yearning, 
 As she weaves from full-blown wattle flower 
 
 her lustrous diadem; 
 For the bloom is gleaming yonder, and it lures 
 
 me on to wander. 
 O ! my Lady of all Beauty, let a single petal 
 
 fall 
 From the rose that you are wearing, and I'll 
 
 break the world's ensnaring 
 And roam for aye your troubadour, and not 
 a voiceless thrall.
 
 20 THE SPRING WIND 
 
 Breeze cease not, with song o'erflowing, seeds 
 
 of beauty sowing, sowing. 
 Chase barefooted purple shadows as the light 
 
 green crops are stirred. 
 Vows from all my violets taking, thine anemones 
 
 awaking, 
 As you woo them with the melodies of billow, 
 
 tree and bird, 
 Over beryl ocean hollows, speeding faster 
 
 than the swallows, 
 Bear me, dreaming on your pinions, to the 
 
 fairy islet lone, 
 Where amid the haunted closes, on a bed of 
 
 crimson roses, 
 
 Lies my Love that I have longed for, sighing 
 sought for, always known.
 
 A GIPPSLAND MORNING IN 
 EARLY SPRING 
 
 /^ REY ashes of a crimson flower 
 
 Beneath the cedar shed, 
 The fire, that bloomed in Night's dark bower, 
 
 No more may raise its head. 
 Drawn by the magpie's mellow call, 
 
 The Morn with rosy feet 
 Conies, when the white gum shadows fall, 
 
 Her truant swain to meet.
 
 22 A GIPPSLAND MORNING 
 
 She whispers to me, Love you're late, 
 
 I've waited long for you, 
 But you had made the Night your mate, 
 
 And yet no solace knew ; 
 I breathe upon your fevered brain, 
 
 And kiss your troubled eyes, 
 Take for awhile, your youth again, 
 
 With all its rich surmise. 
 
 Godlike I lie upon the grass, 
 
 And with the moments toy, 
 While o'er the hills the cloudlets pass, 
 
 And down the vale deploy; 
 And fancy after fancy blows, 
 
 In thought's rich flowering clime 
 The hour is as a budding rose, 
 
 In that strange garden, Time.
 
 IN EARLY SPRING 23 
 
 And loud through ill the valley rings, 
 
 (While transient opals gleam 
 Above the grave oak's whisperings) 
 
 The voice of Tambo stream 
 Deep- voiced, and clear his madrigal, 
 
 Roaming with current strong 
 He dances down a shallow fall, 
 
 And sings a Pagan song. 
 
 The blood-red lories sing a stave, 
 
 And flit like arrows past, 
 And in the amber of the wave, 
 
 Strange fleeting jewels cast ; 
 And glad and lone, the friar thrush 
 
 A morning mass intones, 
 In his green shrine of dogwood brush, 
 
 Hung o'er wave-silvered stones.
 
 24 A GIPPSLAND MORNING 
 
 The sky is one huge violet, 
 
 That only morning grows, 
 And by the ranges purpled fret, 
 
 The moon's lost lily shows, 
 While tolls the bell-bird's silver bell, 
 
 Where wattles hint at bloom, 
 From some unravished mountain dell, 
 
 Steals vestaline perfume. 
 
 Proudly, and slow, huge wings outspread, 
 
 Seeking the distant vales, 
 With regal pomp, and restless head, 
 
 The wedge-tailed eagle sails. 
 As though^ commanded to the earth, 
 
 To find, and skyward lead 
 To minister to some god's mirth, 
 
 Another Ganymede.
 
 IN EARLY SPRING 25 
 
 I see massed flowers awaiting birth, 
 
 The seed dream of the tree, 
 I hear the step in caves of earth, 
 
 Of free Persephone ; 
 And feel the air strange music holds, 
 
 Of songs unborn, that die, 
 Each spent, before its soul unfolds, 
 
 To charm the waiting sky. 
 
 Till lo, my spirit spreadeth wings, 
 
 And throws its vesture by, 
 And tones the song the wild bird sings, 
 
 Is in the she-oak sigh. 
 Trails in the air a woodland scent, 
 
 Dreams in the waking bloom, 
 And slowly scales the firmament, 
 
 A cloud, an eagle plume.
 
 BEFORE THE BOAT RACE 
 
 r I ^HERE'S a tumult in the distance, and a 
 
 warsong in the air, 
 Where the foemen in their galleys, for another 
 
 fight prepare, 
 For they whisper in the country, and they noise 
 
 it in the town, 
 That the Wesley colours from the mast will 
 
 soon be taken down. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Then, it's forward, boys, to battle hear the 
 
 bugle's thrilling tone, 
 With the Royal Purple, borne ahead, march 
 
 onward, to your own ; 
 With the Lion proudly passing, as the ensign 
 
 flutters free ; 
 Let the Lion keep the river, as the Lion keeps 
 
 the sea. 
 
 I
 
 28 BEFORE THE BOAT RACE 
 
 They have raised the Light-blue pennon, and 
 
 the Flag of the Maroon 
 See the Dark-Blue Banner flaunting, in the 
 
 warm October noon, 
 But who careth for the menace, for it only spurs 
 
 the bold, 
 And there are no boys that waver, wearing 
 
 Purple and the Gold, 
 
 O ! I hear the voices calling, from the years 
 so far away, 
 
 Of the Blue and White clad oarsmen, van- 
 quished in unequal fray, 
 
 " Bitter was defeat we tasted, seldom laurel 
 crowned the brow, 
 
 Yet we failed that you might conquer, 'tis for 
 you to triumph now."
 
 BEFORE THE BOAT RACE 29 
 
 See the royal Spring advances, with the 
 
 colours loved so well, 
 Golden bloom of wattle bringing, and the wild 
 
 flower's purple bell, 
 Cloud-born shadows slowly drifting, o'er the 
 
 gold-barred, sapphire main, 
 And the golden shore, that hugs the foam, and 
 
 renders it again. 
 
 Here to me this day are wafted, melodies I 
 
 loved before, 
 Wind, and wave, and reed bird singing, and 
 
 the rhythmic beat of oar. 
 And a whisper from the college, calling softly 
 
 to her boys, 
 " He is worthy, who unselfish, all his strength 
 
 for me employs."
 
 30 BEFORE THE BOAT RACE 
 
 Pull, boys, pull, and swing together down the 
 
 Yarra's calling wave, 
 While your comrades by the boathouse, shout 
 
 their welcome to the brave ; 
 Self-forgotten, school revering, honouring the 
 
 gallant foe, 
 Let the eight oar take the river for the fame 
 
 of Wesley row.
 
 FLAG SONG 
 
 T~AEAR flag ! Old flag ! O, the blue and 
 
 white, 
 
 Floating in the years long gone, 
 How our pulses beat, 
 Mocking at defeat, 
 Following the standard on. 
 
 Proud flag, New flag, purple and the gold 
 
 Shouting past the legions go, 
 
 Carried onward fleet 
 
 Knowing no retreat, 
 
 Flouting at the winds that blow.
 
 32 FLAG SONG 
 
 Old flag, New flag, colours of the sky 
 
 Gleaming as the seasons roll, 
 
 Morning's blue attire, 
 
 Sunset's purple fire, 
 
 Golden braid on eve's dark stole. 
 
 Clear voice, young voice, ringing through the 
 
 school, 
 
 Fluting in the sweet time flown, 
 Youth so debonair, 
 May not linger there, 
 Youngsters are to grey men grown. 
 
 Old school, kind school, fostering the weak, 
 Never brighter days have shone, 
 Boys from evil stayed, 
 Gallant men are made, 
 Following the Standard on.
 
 THE SWAGMAN, OR IN EXILE 
 
 T ONG I've watched the eagle soaring, and 
 -^ the sun his colours pouring, 
 Till they fill the vale below me, as though 
 
 with purple wine ; 
 While the trees, proud crests uplifting, toy 
 
 with the cloudlets drifting, 
 And the streamlets glow like beryl, or as 
 
 yellow topaz shine ; 
 But the joy is only fleeting, for they give to 
 
 me no greeting, 
 'Tis your native hills that hold you though 
 
 far away the road, 
 Ever beckoning from the distance, with a 
 
 passionate persistence, 
 Youth and Love have fashioned there a 
 fairy-like abode. 
 
 33
 
 34 THE SWAGMAN 
 
 And so while I am thinking and your stately 
 
 day is sinking 
 Comes an elfin wind of memory whose spell 
 
 I must obey ; 
 
 For I hear a river falling, every syllable recall- 
 ing, 
 As it croons, and curves in silver, beneath a 
 
 mossy brae ; 
 And it's O ! to see the heather, and the berries 
 
 red to gather 
 Where the rowan shakes her tresses, and the 
 
 larches love to dwell, 
 Till my spirit flutters roaming, and like tired 
 
 wild bird homing, 
 
 It flies into the valley that my boyhood 
 knew so well. 
 
 From the bluebells lightly springing, to the 
 
 blue the lark is winging, 
 And the pine-trees, deep contralto bears the 
 burden to the song;
 
 THE SVVAGMAN 35 
 
 Strides the piper old and haunted, by the songs 
 
 his fathers chaunted, 
 Round him as he blows the pibroch ghosts 
 
 of buried clansmen throng, 
 And she passes young and slender, in her 
 
 beauty's flowerlike splendour, 
 Blue eyed, fairest in the valley ah does she 
 
 dream of me ? 
 For my heart is madly leaping and again the 
 
 tryst I'm keeping, 
 
 Though she walks no more the valley, and 
 I wander oversea. 
 
 And I bend as at an altar while my mother's 
 
 sweet lips falter, 
 As she whispers at our parting, " my boy, 
 
 come back again " ; 
 But the snows have long been sifted, and the 
 
 years have drifted, drifted, 
 And the old home is so lonely, far beyond 
 the singing main,
 
 36 THE SWAGMAN 
 
 O the dream that brings me sorrow, past 
 
 delight can know no morrow, 
 With my swag my only comrade I must 
 
 seek the plains below, 
 While your star that rises slowly shines with a 
 
 lustre holy, 
 
 Like the eyes of her who loved me in a sunny 
 long-ago.
 
 THE MINER'S GRAVE 
 
 TTIS comrades bore him to the grave, 
 
 In column moving slow, 
 With pomp their faithful subjects gave 
 To monarchs long ago. 
 
 By trees that glimmered bronze and red, 
 
 Edging the mountain road, 
 Passing along with martial tread, 
 
 Unto his last abode. 
 
 For such a grave a king might pine, 
 
 High on a lonely hill, 
 Where grey trees make a solemn shrine, 
 
 The wind's loud voices fill.
 
 38 THE MINER'S GRAVE 
 
 Where rises oft the newborn cloud, 
 
 The eagle lingers near, 
 And winter flings an ermine shroud, 
 
 Upon the lonely bier. 
 
 There scarlet vestures of the morn 
 Droop from the summer sky, 
 
 And sunset's purple raiment torn, 
 When days, like Caesar, die. 
 
 And chiming with the river's song, 
 
 Unending deep and slow, 
 The birds oft sing in joyous throng, 
 
 Within the vale below. 
 
 He careth not with silent kings, 
 
 And Beauty, fain of rest 
 He sleeps while earth his mother sings, 
 
 And holds him to her breast.
 
 THE MAGPIE'S SONG 
 
 \\ 7~HERE the dreaming Tiber wanders by 
 the haunted Appian Way, 
 
 Lo ! the nightingale is uttering a sorrow- 
 burdened lay ; 
 
 While the olive trees are shaking, and the 
 cypress boughs are stirred : 
 
 Palpitates the moon's white bosom to the 
 sorrow of the bird, 
 
 Sobbing, sobbing, sobbing ; yet a sweeter song 
 I know : 
 
 'Tis the magpie's windblown music where the 
 Gippsland rivers flow. 
 
 39
 
 40 THE MAGPIE'S SONG 
 
 O, I love to be by Bindi, where the fragrant 
 pastures are, 
 
 And the Tambo to his bosom takes the trem- 
 bling Evening Star 
 
 Just to hear the magpie's warble in the blue- 
 gums on the hill, 
 
 When the frail green flower of twilight in the 
 sky is lingering still, 
 
 Calling, calling, calling to the abdicating day : 
 
 O, they fill my heart with music as I loiter on 
 my way. 
 
 O, the windy morn of Matlock, when the last 
 
 snow-wreath had gone, 
 And the blackwoods robed by tardy Spring 
 
 with starlike beauty shone ; 
 When the lory showed his crimson to the golden 
 
 blossom spread, 
 And the Goulburn's grey-green mirror showed 
 
 the loving colours wed : 
 Chiming, chiming, chiming in the pauses of the 
 
 gale, 
 How the magpies' notes came ringing down the 
 
 mountain, o'er the vale.
 
 THE MAGPIE'S SONG 41 
 
 O, the noon beside the ocean, when the spring 
 tide, landward set, 
 
 Cast ashore the loosened silver from the waves 
 of violet, 
 
 As the seagod sang a lovesong and the she- 
 oak answer made, 
 
 Came the magpie's carol wafted down the piny 
 colonnade, 
 
 Trolling, trolling, trolling in a nuptial melody, 
 
 As it floated from the moaning pine to charm 
 the singing sea. 
 
 And the dark hour in the city, when my Love 
 
 had silent flown, 
 Nesting in some far-off valley, to the seraphs 
 
 only known, 
 When the violet had no odour and the rose no 
 
 purple bloom, 
 And the grey-winged vulture, Sorrow, came 
 
 rustling through the gloom, 
 Crooning, crooning, crooning on the swaying 
 
 garden bough : 
 O, the song of hope you uttered then my heart 
 
 is trilling now.
 
 42 THE MAGPIE'S SONG 
 
 Voice of happy shepherd chanting by a stream 
 
 in Arcady, 
 Seems thy song this blue-eyed morning over 
 
 lilac borne to me ; 
 In his arms again Joy takes me, Hope with 
 
 dimpling cheek appears, 
 And my life seems one long lovely vale where 
 
 grow the rosy years : 
 Lilting, lilting, lilting ; when I slumber at the 
 
 last 
 Let your music in the joyous wind be ever 
 
 wandering past.
 
 DREAMS 
 
 T SEEMED a waste of weary land, 
 Lone, grey, forsaken by the sea, 
 The keen sun smote my naked sand, 
 The sultry wind made sport of me. 
 
 Ah ! pitiless the barren day, 
 The brooding horror of the night, 
 
 A fettered captive, prone I lay, 
 Fearing the darkness, and the light. 
 
 When summoned by the magic spell 
 Of love, who knew my loneliness, 
 
 A gleaming sunge of silver fell, 
 And garmented my nakedness. 
 
 43
 
 44 DREAMS 
 
 O hour of spring, and welcome sea, 
 Filling the hollows, long forlorn, 
 
 How soon to thy sweet melody, 
 Were countless forms of beauty born. 
 
 Now mirrored in my tide I hold 
 The glories of chameleon day, 
 
 The fleeting scarlet, green and gold, 
 And sapphire, of the morn's array. 
 
 The mauve -veiled moon, vermilion eve, 
 The strange deep violet of night, 
 
 Till like an opal huge I heave, 
 Or lie at rest a chrysolite. 
 
 Oft lingering the virgin moon 
 Grants me her kiss so long denied, 
 
 While silver, moth-like stars are strewn, 
 And swaying on my ripples ride.
 
 DREAMS 45 
 
 Yea, oft the Night, when clouds are spread, 
 Veiling the splendour of her eyes, 
 
 Droops o'er my flood her odorous head, 
 That I may listen to her sighs.
 
 MIST AND MOON 
 
 T T yTHY should the mist rise from the stream , 
 
 A lyric on its bars ! 
 And steal from every wave the gleam, 
 Begot by lover stars. 
 
 O see the moon ascend tue sky ! 
 
 The vapour tremble, burn, 
 A chrysoprase enamoured lie, 
 
 Above transfigured fern. 
 
 On tree and stream, a glory shed, 
 
 That jewels wave and leaf, 
 For sorrow is with beauty wed, 
 
 And joy is born of grief. 
 
 47
 
 DEW 
 
 TAEW upon the robin as he lilts there, on 
 
 the thorn, 
 Jewel on a scarlet breast a fleeting moment 
 
 worn, 
 And suddenly by fairy hands into blue 
 
 heaven drawn. 
 
 Slave that dares to seek a couch in Cleopatra's 
 
 bower, 
 Curtained by the crimson leaves of yonder 
 
 royal flower, 
 Until the spearmen of the sun shall end the 
 
 blissful hour.
 
 50 DEW 
 
 Dew upon the blackwood boughs by morning 
 
 Zephyr stirred, 
 Shaken to the fronded fern by restless diamond 
 
 bird; 
 Night's opals on a spendthrift morn, with 
 
 gracious stealth conferred. 
 
 Cast upon the Autumn leaves wind sundered 
 
 from their home, 
 Crimson, amber, scarlet, grey, amethystine, 
 
 chrome, 
 A mother's tears o'er children fair that perish 
 
 in the loam. 
 
 Dew that lies by mountain stream the oreoicas 
 
 know, 
 Flung from fragile blue-bell cups, when vernal 
 
 breezes blow, 
 And carillons and odours wed and fill the vale 
 
 below.
 
 DEW 51 
 
 Gems that crust a million mounds where 
 
 pauper children lie, 
 Where the wind goes murmuring a ceaseless 
 
 hush-a-bye, 
 Yet all the while the children sing like skylarks 
 
 in the sky. 
 
 Dew that fills the starry eyes at closing of the 
 
 day, 
 Gleaming by a carmine cloud that slowly fades 
 
 away, 
 Immortal sadness of a god to mortal love a 
 
 prey. 
 
 Dew that falls from Her sad eyes, to cool with 
 
 healing rain, 
 The hearts that are so lonely here, that lonely 
 
 must remain, 
 Till all the Seraphin are stirred, to dream of 
 
 earth again.
 
 SHE COMES AS COMES THE 
 SUMMER NIGHT 
 
 OHE comes as comes the summer night, 
 
 Violet, perfumed, clad with stars, 
 To heal the eyes hurt by the light 
 
 Flung by Day's brandish'd scimitars. 
 The parted crimson of her lips 
 
 Like sunset clouds that slowly die 
 When twilight with cool finger-tips 
 
 Unbraids her tresses in the sky.
 
 54 SHE COMES AS SUMMER NIGHT 
 
 ii 
 The melody of waterfalls 
 
 Is in the music of her tongue, 
 Low chanted in dim forest halls 
 
 Ere Dawn's loud bugle-call has rung. 
 And as a bird with hovering wings 
 
 Halts o'er her young one in the nest, 
 Then droops to still his flutterings, 
 
 She takes me to her fragrant breast. 
 
 in 
 
 O star and bird at once thou art, 
 
 And Night, with purple-petall'd charm, 
 Shining and singing to my heart, 
 
 And soothing with a dewy calm. 
 Let Death assume this lovely guise, 
 
 So darkly beautiful and sweet, 
 And, gazing with those starry eyes, 
 
 Lead far away my weary feet.
 
 SHE COMES AS SUMMER NIGHT 55 
 
 IV 
 
 And that strange sense of valleys fair 
 
 With birds and rivers making song 
 To lull the blossoms gleaming there, 
 
 Be with me as I pass along. 
 Ah ! lovely sisters, Night and Death, 
 
 And lovelier Woman wondrous three, 
 " Givers of Life," my spirit saith, 
 
 Unfolders of the mystery. 
 
 v 
 
 Ah ! only Love could teach me this, 
 
 In memoried springtime long since flown ; 
 Red lips that trembled to my kiss, 
 
 That sighed farewell, and left me lone. 
 O Joy and Sorrow intertwined, 
 
 A kiss, a sigh, and blinding tears, 
 Yet ever after in the wind, 
 
 The bird-like music of the spheres !
 
 LOVE IN THE SOUTH 
 
 nr^HE opal-sandalled Morn and Spring 
 
 Go singing hand in hand, 
 Their sister voices sweetly ring 
 
 Across a perfumed land ; 
 In Tyrian purple heaves the sea : 
 O come my love, I long for thee ! 
 
 The white gum's lovely breast is bare, 
 
 Vying in vain with thine : 
 The wattle droops her sunny hair, 
 
 More bright thy tresses shine. 
 Where violets bloom thine eyes I see : 
 O come my love, I long for thee ! 
 
 67
 
 58 LOVE IN THE SOUTH 
 
 The magpie croons his lover-song, 
 
 The lark is in the sky, 
 The thrushes here have warbled long, 
 
 For thee the finches cry : 
 They love thy voice's melody 
 O come my love, I long for thee ! 
 
 O yield to me that scarlet mouth 
 That dares Aurora's scorn, 
 
 And I, Tithonus in the South, 
 Will kiss the fairer Morn, 
 
 And by thy lips immortal be : 
 
 O come my love, I long for thee !
 
 WHISPERS 
 
 A /^ US 1C makes for beauty moan, 
 
 For the lovely Spring o'erthrow n. 
 For the Capeweed glory set, 
 And the mouldered violet. 
 Sea to shore sigh uttereth, 
 And the she-oak answereth. 
 
 Gone the Daffodil of morn, 
 Noon's deep purple Rose is torn, 
 And too frail thy petals be, 
 Evening's red Anemone. 
 " I am worn by minstrel Death/' 
 Night's Black Poppy whispereth. 
 
 69
 
 60 WHISPERS 
 
 Ah, what haunted citadel, 
 Keeps the maid I love so well ! 
 Lustrous Lonely bluebell eyes, 
 Voice whose tones are lullabies. 
 " Love is but a name of Death," 
 Unto me the pine-tree saith. 
 
 Fades the music like a sigh, 
 Droops as earthward lark from sky; 
 Yet o'er vale and piny hill, 
 One sweet voice is whispering still. 
 " Oft I wear the mask of Death, 
 None my love disquieteth."
 
 THE GOLDEN FRUITAGE 
 DROOPING NIGH 
 
 nr^HE golden fruitage drooping nigh 
 
 Still rustles quickly down, 
 Though years steal lustre from the eye, 
 And Fate begins to frown. 
 
 Still is my heart divinely young, 
 
 Insatiate of joy 
 As when young Love his pinions hung 
 
 Above a daring boy. 
 
 Time quails at Love's unconquered might, 
 
 And brings his gifts to me, 
 That I may store up vast delight, 
 
 To last eternity. 
 
 61
 
 GUITAR SONG 
 
 T 1ST, list, 
 
 "' Girls unkist, 
 Whisper in the wind, 
 
 Hist, hist, 
 
 What you missed, 
 Nevermore you'll find. 
 
 List, list, 
 
 Lutanist, 
 Frail is all delight, 
 
 Hist, hist, 
 
 Has he wist, 
 Cold is the long night.
 
 WHERE IS MARIE? WHERE 
 IS ROSE? 
 
 TT 7HERE is Marie? Where is Rose? 
 
 Ah ! the robber years ! 
 Suddenly love's blossom goes, 
 Fate's a wind that sears. 
 
 Kissed I once a scarlet mouth. 
 
 For a goddess meet; 
 Ever since I've felt a drouth, 
 
 Longing for the sweet. 
 
 Heart of mine 'neath dainty feet, 
 
 Tripping lightly on, 
 Recks not youth of Time's defeat: 
 
 Where has Marie gone? 
 
 6 H
 
 66 WHERE IS MARIE? 
 
 Lovely were you, careless maid, 
 
 In a long ago ! 
 Whither have your footsteps strayed? 
 
 Rose ! I worshipped so. 
 
 Chill the wind of Autumn blows, 
 
 Pale the sun appears ; 
 Where is Marie ? Where is Rose ? 
 
 Answerless the years.
 
 BLOOM UPON THE ROBIN'S 
 BREAST 
 
 TQLOOM upon the robin's breast, on the 
 
 leaflets high, 
 Bloom upon the maiden's cheek, in my heart 
 
 a sigh; 
 These will come and these will pass, loveliness 
 
 must die. 
 
 Song upon the white gum bough, in the fragrant 
 air, 
 
 Songs of poets skyward gone floating every- 
 where, 
 
 Who shall free my captive song tangled in a 
 snare ?
 
 68 BLOOM UPON THE ROBIN'S BREAST 
 
 Bloom and song be with me long, for if 
 
 dispossessed 
 Love will pass on rapid wing, enter not my 
 
 breast. 
 Lo of beauty I am fain Eros be my guest.
 
 INCONSTANT LOVER 
 
 OELDOM long delight is man's ; 
 
 Oft he goes a-sighing, 
 Watching impish Cupid's vans, 
 In the distance flying. 
 
 Yet, while he proclaims his woes, 
 
 Comes again the rover, 
 Proffering a sweeter rose, 
 
 Faery sprinkled over. 
 
 Wise men take the gift he brings, 
 Fleeting pleasure marry, 
 
 Knowing Venus gave him wings, 
 Never long to tarry. 
 
 M
 
 70 INCONSTANT LOVER 
 
 Joyfully without debate, 
 When his flight is taken, 
 
 Find as one is spoiled by Fate 
 Rarer joys awaken. 
 
 Kiss, and let the rogue depart, 
 Bind his pinions never ; 
 
 Lose, and find within the heart 
 New-born roses ever.
 
 QUATRAIN 
 
 TAKE again the withered flower, 
 That on thy breast hath lain, 
 Restore it to the snowy bower, 
 That it may bloom again. 
 
 71
 
 ON FALLING AT A LADY'S FEET 
 AFTER A DANCE 
 
 TF prostrate at thy feet I lie, 
 
 Reprove thine eyes not me, 
 They drew me to a starry sky, 
 To touch divinity. 
 
 How could a mortal linger there 
 
 Possessed of feeble worth? 
 But breathe awhile ambrosial air, 
 
 And fall back to the earth. 
 
 And yet I keep a fair delight, 
 
 To feast on unreproved, 
 How once a goddess blessed the night 
 
 And near a mortal moved. 
 
 73
 
 QUESTION 
 
 T TEAR the wind and the sigh of the wave, 
 As it slides from the breast of the 
 shore ; 
 
 If my youth could arise from the grave, 
 Would it rest on my heart as of yore ? 
 
 In her beauty as frail as the foam, 
 Would she whisper, and tremble, and fly 
 
 Stealing back to a desolate home, 
 And leave me more lonely to sigh? 
 
 No she comes with a murmuring song, 
 And a whisper of wonderful years, 
 
 Of a journey together along 
 All the blossoming, musical spheres. 
 
 75
 
 76 QUESTION 
 
 Till the night seems to break into bloom 
 And the song in my heart overflows. 
 
 As a seed, hold a splendour in gloom, 
 The earth, how it dreams of the rose.
 
 WIND AND WATTLE BLOSSOM 
 
 TT 7"IND in the wattle tree 
 
 Wooing the gold, 
 Shaking the dew on me, 
 
 Troubadour bold. 
 
 Kiss the fair bloom as you kissed in your joy, 
 Tresses of Helen dishevelled in Troy. 
 
 Fairer than golden fruit, 
 
 Hercules brought, 
 Luning a maid's pursuit, 
 
 Witchery fraught. 
 
 Here, while I linger alone in the shrine, 
 Bring me, sweet blossom, a maiden divine. 
 
 77
 
 78 WIND AND WATTLE BLOSSOM 
 
 Shyly the robin calls, 
 
 Rosy his breast, 
 Softly the pollen falls 
 
 Over the guest. 
 
 Largesse for minstrel who sings in the bower, 
 List to his passionate song to the flower. 
 
 Loving the rivulet, 
 
 Loitering near, 
 Deep in his bosom set, 
 
 Imaging clear. 
 
 Carries the tokens the morning bestows 
 Gold of the blossom, and blush of the rose. 
 
 Sold in a Paris street, 
 
 Often you glow, 
 Placed where poor Villon's feet 
 
 Strayed long ago. 
 
 Ah ! might that master of Love's minstrelsy, 
 Lovingly fashion a lyric for thee.
 
 WIND AND WATTLE BLOSSOM 79 
 
 See there a stranger stand, 
 
 Dreaming of home, 
 Of a dear native land 
 
 Over the foam. 
 
 Luminous, odorous how thy waves pour, 
 Through the grey forest surrounding his door. 
 
 Bloom of the wattle tree, 
 
 Soon you must die, 
 Fade like a melody, 
 Star from the sky. 
 
 Yearly renewed in your loveliness burn, 
 Never to you will my footsteps return. 
 
 Glimmering, glamouring, 
 
 Slowly you sway, 
 My heart enamouring 
 All the spring day. 
 
 Fade, and returning in beauty arrayed, 
 Weave your sweet magic for man and for maid.
 
 A FOUNTAIN and a singing bird 
 That weave a chiming rain, 
 And you so near, a hidden third, 
 Sighing my name again : 
 
 A star that trembles in the grey, 
 Eve's primrose newly blown, 
 
 And eve, and spring, and newborn day 
 Are each at once my own. 
 
 O fountain, bird, and swaying star 
 Her sweet confederates still, 
 
 When shall the gate of Love unbar 
 That I may have my will ? 
 
 81
 
 RAPUNZEL 
 
 T} APUNZEL ! O Rapunzel ! you spread 
 
 your golden hair, 
 You lured me to the Bushland, and took me 
 
 in the snare, 
 I climbed the shining tresses to your enchanted 
 
 tree, 
 And while you showed your loveliness you stole 
 
 the heart from me. 
 
 Rapunzel ! O Rapunzel ! I wander lone to-day, 
 The fell witch listened to our vows, and carried 
 
 you away, 
 
 But I will roam the forest, a faithful lover be, 
 Till spring shall help you to escape, and bring 
 
 you back to me.
 
 84 RAPUNZEL 
 
 Rapunzel ! O Rapunzel ! our trystings cannot 
 last, 
 
 You'll search in vain for your true knight, all 
 his lovetime past : 
 
 And yet, sweet girl, forget me not, though 
 nobler lovers be, 
 
 O shed your sunny fragrant locks in spring- 
 time over me !
 
 THRUSHES 
 
 T7*NGLISH thrush within my garden from 
 
 ^~* thy pine tree minaret, 
 
 Summoning the wandering Faithful while the 
 
 crimson lingers yet ! 
 Love's Muezzin, loud entreating, and thy 
 
 melody repeating 
 To the city folk so wan and old and haunted 
 
 by regret. 
 Low I bow, your voice obeying, solemnly my 
 
 Koran saying, 
 Love is Allah, Love is Allah, none his worship 
 
 may forget.
 
 86 THRUSHES 
 
 Oft your song in dawn-lit woodlands o'er the 
 camping cohorts borne 
 
 Woke in breasts of war-scarred Romans long- 
 ings for a maid forsworn, 
 
 You set Saxon Alfred smiling, from his manu- 
 scripts beguiling, 
 
 And the monk beside him dreamed of days 
 before his cowl was worn. 
 
 As the Norman heard you lilting he forsook the 
 joy of tilting, 
 
 And harboured sweet pain in his heart on many 
 an April morn. 
 
 Chaucer listened to your music in a springtime 
 
 long ago, 
 And you warble in his verses where still the 
 
 daisies blow, 
 And where Avon's wave is gleaming, Youthful 
 
 Shakespeare wandered dreaming, 
 And paused to hear your evensong mix with 
 
 the river's flow. 
 King and minstrel could not linger, but your 
 
 lyric, love's own singer, 
 Changeless in an Austral garden lights my 
 
 bosom with its glow.
 
 THRUSHES 87 
 
 Yet your grey Australian brother long has held 
 
 my heart in thrall, 
 Since the time I heard him singing by a purple 
 
 mountain wall. 
 Carelessly the day was spilling odours, all the 
 
 valley filling, 
 And an amorous iris fluttered by a singing 
 
 waterfall, 
 Hid in fern, of springtime crooning, bidding 
 
 earth awake from swooning, 
 Long I lay beneath the myrtles listening to his 
 
 madrigal. 
 
 Though a few belated snowflakes circled from 
 
 a changing sky, 
 Every shrub and moss-lit boulder stirred 
 
 responsive to the cry ; 
 Swayed the blackwoods all ashiver, dreaming 
 
 by the snowfed river, 
 Thrilled the gums with naked bosoms, ranked 
 
 in stern battalions by : 
 Beautiful in caverns burning, swiftly came the 
 
 Spring returning, 
 Musical from hill and valley came Demeter's 
 
 happy sigh.
 
 88 THRUSHES 
 
 Chant on English thrush, and hearken many a 
 
 pilgrim to thy lay ; 
 Yet to your grey mountain brother I must 
 
 always homage pay, 
 For he sings a nation rising, radiant with a 
 
 sweet surmising, 
 Soaring high on vermeil pinions, over empires 
 
 worn and grey, 
 Monarchs cease their grave debating, silent 
 
 with their peoples waiting, 
 As the Jovian bird slow sweeping takes around 
 
 the world his way. 
 
 Rise and shine, beloved spirit, make the wide 
 
 earth all thine own, 
 Scatter dews to heal the weary turn to joy 
 
 the nation's moan ; 
 Proudly through the azure soaring, splendour 
 
 from thy pinions pouring, 
 Till the clouds o'er toilworn cities with thy 
 
 starry beams are strewn. 
 Rome has heard thy forest voices, Sparta with 
 
 their song rejoices, 
 Melodies that tell thy coming over all the lands 
 
 are blown.
 
 THRUSHES 89 
 
 Sing, O sing, ye rival thrushes, let me capture 
 each refrain; 
 
 You, the speckled singer, summon pictures of 
 an English lane, 
 
 Daffodils and violets blooming, May her beau- 
 teous robe assuming, 
 
 Happy maids and eager lovers listening to thy 
 joyous strain : 
 
 Grey thrush, lead me to the mountain, bathe 
 me in thy song's pure fountain, 
 
 Beautiful unsoiled bird-voices, long within my 
 heart remain. 
 
 Printed by Butler and Tanner, Frome and London
 
 A Striking Volume of real Australian Poetry 
 
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