PRAYER OF AN APPLE-TREE
By HELEN JOAN BROOKFIELD. Oh, blithe, September wind blow gently here, Wresting not from my enraptured arms Their dainty burden, treasured of my love — The sweet, white children that have been my dream all winter through. Only, oh Wind, with dulcet breath draw near, Yet shake from the milky vapours of the moon The opal glimmer of soft-falling dew, And, on the saffron tides of sunswept noon, The brown bee's fairy pinions waft. Thus, Brother Wind, remark my earnest prayer. Passing with moth-like wing and tiptoe tread, Lest thou tho budding promise of tho year, For reckless whim and wanton glee, destroy (Bending with tho flail my griefstruck head); Lest from my boughs the thrush no longer sing— Bereft of joy.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/NZH19340922.2.185.40.4
Bibliographic details
New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXI, Issue 21912, 22 September 1934, Page 4 (Supplement)
Word Count
125PRAYER OF AN APPLE-TREE New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXI, Issue 21912, 22 September 1934, Page 4 (Supplement)
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