VAGRANT VERSE
GOLDEN TREES. (Written for the Southland Times/ Shining on a hill, Exquisitely still, I saw seven golden trees, Haunted not by bird or bees Altars near the sky, Slim and very high, Strange that autumn’s magic may. Burnish brightly in a day. Trees in emerald dress, On their loveliness—’Twas but yesterday my gaze Fell upon them—now they blaze Goldenly and still, Lighting up the hill, Magic autumn’s ways are bold, Turning green trees into gold. —lvy Gibba, Auckland, June, 1927*
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ST19270613.2.42
Bibliographic details
Southland Times, Issue 20202, 13 June 1927, Page 6
Word Count
82VAGRANT VERSE Southland Times, Issue 20202, 13 June 1927, Page 6
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