VAGRANT VERSE
IN SAILORS’ GRAVE. (Written for the Southland Timex) The day dies fast, The sun has cast His farewell beams' across the Bay And hill and lea Grow shadowy As swiftly falls the gloaming gray. The night comes fast, A furious blast Sweeps suddenly o’er hungry sea That dreary moans And sighs and groans, Like one distraught thro’ agony. The blast, grown gale, Resounds loud hail. Wild wail of lost in Phlagethon, While in the dark A lonely bark Is battling, sails and rudder gon*. Lol to and fro, Now high, now low, She’s driven, tossed, by wind, by wava. Where breakers roar— Soon all is o’er; The brave are lept in sailors’ grave. —Robert Ftaneia. Blufi. June 14,
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ST19230615.2.21
Bibliographic details
Southland Times, Issue 18968, 15 June 1923, Page 4
Word Count
120VAGRANT VERSE Southland Times, Issue 18968, 15 June 1923, Page 4
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