THE OLD SPIRIT.
Like moonlight failing on a city street, Softening the haryh and garish things of day, Is thy faint voice when fingers lightly stray Over the yellow keys. Jangled and sweet The old world melodies and measures beat; Some plaintive as an evening breeze, some gay As little streams that down the hillside play; 7 Some mellow as the sun upon ripe wheat. A brazen jazz band clangs the latest song, , Dancers like marionettes with measured tread, Move in and out, and round, a dizzy throng From whose dull souls the love of thee has fled. I steal away to hear thy voice among The ghosts of those who loved thee, and are dead. —K. Ford, in G. K.’s Weekly.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/OW19281204.2.261.5
Bibliographic details
Otago Witness, Issue 3899, 4 December 1928, Page 71
Word Count
122THE OLD SPIRIT. Otago Witness, Issue 3899, 4 December 1928, Page 71
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