VAGRANT VERSE
THE DRIFT OF FANCY. (Written for the Southland Times.) Build me a rock beneath me, that hath been Cleansed of the foetid soil men live upon. Let it be higher man’s twisted vision, Build it e’en high enough to make division Twixt me and ail the things that man hath seen And set his hand on. Some place where peace may wed my bleeding soul And with a lover’s solace make me whole. Grant me the sea to drown forgetfulness; Close at my feet, to swallow up my thought Before my mind has heard it; yea, before The blare of comprehension can restore Blind, screaming reason to my hopelessness. The sea has caught The melodies I crave for, on its swell My fancy drifting —where I would not tell. There with soft miste to hide the right of land I would be free to five with the Unknown; To solve the things that are, and find the eord Some providential fate has surely stored To guide, in time of danger, a weak hand If I should moan, High on my rock, surrounded by the sea *T would be not pain, nor fear, but ecstasy Thih is my prayer—and one more boon of Thee— Let not the sun break through the miste to me. —Rrunnhilde. Invercargill, October 15, 1926.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ST19261016.2.29
Bibliographic details
Southland Times, Issue 20002, 16 October 1926, Page 6
Word Count
220VAGRANT VERSE Southland Times, Issue 20002, 16 October 1926, Page 6
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