LAMENT FOR DOOMED LARCHES.
[For The Press.] Larches bathed tenderly In dawn's pale gold, Breast-high, slenderly A-shiver in the cold, Striplings three years old. (But the bljiegums whispered together, Nor'wcster weather.) Noon high, the master Bade us tear them up, Root and stem, the faster Sooner would we sup. But bitter was the cup. (With a surge and a passion of seas The gums wept in the breeze.)
Sunset flushed the heap Piled for the blaze. Small comfort, ye who weep, • That their ash will raise Some crop of later days. (Hushed was the bluegums' sighing, Tor Youth was dying.) , —A. W. RUSSELL.
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Bibliographic details
Press, Volume LXIII, Issue 19114, 24 September 1927, Page 13
Word Count
103LAMENT FOR DOOMED LARCHES. Press, Volume LXIII, Issue 19114, 24 September 1927, Page 13
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