WHEN SUMMER WOODS.
When summer woods are tinted red, And hills are crowned with evening gold, When daisies weary of the day, And wrinkled men complain of cold, When tree and cloud vibrate with song And bees fly home on dewy wings, I throw me down upon the hills, And snap my fingers at proud kings. —Joe Corrie.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/GRA19400321.2.57.3
Bibliographic details
Grey River Argus, 21 March 1940, Page 9
Word Count
58WHEN SUMMER WOODS. Grey River Argus, 21 March 1940, Page 9
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