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Poetry.

A TREASURY.] Shakespeare, Angelo, and Napoleon, Beethoven, Rodin, and a hundred more. Have played the mighty game of art and won. And saw world-triumphs lavished at their door. Not mine the glamour of a battlesong. The chiselled lines of sumptuous Milo, No careless plaudits from an idle throng. Or pleasant bronzes standing row by row. But the green grass and freshness of sweet air, And double snowdrops in white clusters gay. The living breath of Spring and heart to dare — These are the treasures I may cllaim to-day. No masteroiece by Hals or Cosimo, But east aglow with a sun’s coloured fire. The looming mountains canopied in snow, And every day a new dream and desire. By Mozart, Liszt, Wagner or Brahms, no theme But stir the rapture of a joy sublime : The new Spring violets gathered as they teem. And scented to a melody of rhyme. —•LA YEN' CrRO. ’’■

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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/SOCR19070914.2.3

Bibliographic details

Poetry., Southern Cross, Volume 15, Issue 22, 14 September 1907

Word Count
151

Poetry. Southern Cross, Volume 15, Issue 22, 14 September 1907

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