VERSES
THE VINE My shaken vine ■ ' Whose leaf-shaped hands Beckons the sun* Of other lauds, Seems like a slender Lost Princess Aloof in exiled Loneliness. The subtle shadow Of her leaves $ On these grey walls A pattern weaves. As though she wrote Her mute complaint In letters tremulous And faint. In her, embodied, Do .[ find Tile living symbol Of my mind Which, rooted, still Feels from its stem , Thoughts burst and the wild sap ■ Run through them, And writes in shadows On the wall Words, that lew eyes Can read at all! —Margaret Sackville, in the ‘ Observer,’
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ESD19350511.2.20.1
Bibliographic details
Evening Star, Issue 22026, 11 May 1935, Page 6
Word Count
97VERSES Evening Star, Issue 22026, 11 May 1935, Page 6
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