VAGRANT VERSE
SUNSET. (Written for the Southland Times.) The grazing sheep they come, The grazing sheep they go, They amble o’er the hills Like moving balls of snow. The fingers of the breeze The ancient windmill turns, And in the glowing west, The late sun redly burns. It burnishes the sheep To creatures of spun gold, And yonder shepherd lad Into a knight of old. Clad in a shining mail, Unearthly does he seem Behind his golden sheep, The figment of a dream. —lvy Gibbs. Auckland, June 1927.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ST19270616.2.35
Bibliographic details
Southland Times, Issue 20205, 16 June 1927, Page 6
Word Count
88VAGRANT VERSE Southland Times, Issue 20205, 16 June 1927, Page 6
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