TRANSIT
He trod our threshold, shared our jests and bread, A little season, while he won his wings, Hawked the high skies for furious happenings, And now —“We thank Thee for our glorious dead .. . .” But each heart's tide casts up fragmentary things, Inconsequent, happy, unheroic, plain — With laughter that we shall not hear again. —Ella McFadyen, in the “Sydney Morning Herald.”
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Bibliographic details
Nelson Evening Mail, Volume 78, 3 July 1943, Page 6
Word Count
61TRANSIT Nelson Evening Mail, Volume 78, 3 July 1943, Page 6
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