A Quiet Corner
THE GOD AND THE REED He passed the lily blossom, white as snow, The tall sand rush, and thyme that fed the bees, 'And paused where silver river reeds bent low, Beyond the grove of golden orange trees. Oh, did he know TTi* search for living song at last was ended, v , _ iWhen he picked one little reed, unblest, unfriended? Or did he choose the smaller one that lay, ,With millions of its brothers in the shade jOf some green osier—where the sunlight played On leaf and catkin? And that day He bruised and bent and twisted to his need, And breathed a living song into the reed. ,Was it Chance or Destiny, or some benignant Fate That made one little reed articulate? It would have died there by the river with its song unspoken, But that he made it live forever, though bruised and bent . . . and broken. -—Gloria Rawlinson, Auckland.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/NZH19341020.2.191.50.2
Bibliographic details
New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXI, Issue 21396, 20 October 1934, Page 6 (Supplement)
Word Count
154A Quiet Corner New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXI, Issue 21396, 20 October 1934, Page 6 (Supplement)
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