VAGRANT VERSE
BREAK OF MORNING Sound vhe invisible trumps. In circuit vast The passive earth like scene of dream is set. The small birds flit and sing, their dark hours past, And their green sojouraings with dewdrops wet. With giant boughs outspread, the oaki high Brood on in slumbrous quiet in the air. Sole in remote inane of vacant sky Paling Arcturus sparkles wildly fair. Sound the invisible trumpe. Ilie wntefli weep. A stealing wind breathes in the meads, r gone. Into their earthen burrows the wild things creep; Cockcrow to thinning cockcrow echoes 0n.... Avert thine eyes, sleep-ridden face! Nor scan Those seraph hosts that in divine array Girdle the mortal-masked empyrean: Their sovran beauty is this break of day. Theira is the music men call Silence What wonder grief distorts thy burning eyes? Turn to try pillow again—in love and fear; Not thine to see the Sou of Morning rise. By Walter de la Mare in the Yale Rsvie*
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ST19220509.2.25
Bibliographic details
Southland Times, Issue 19510, 9 May 1922, Page 4
Word Count
161VAGRANT VERSE Southland Times, Issue 19510, 9 May 1922, Page 4
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