VAGRANT VERSE
THE ORETI ANTHOLOGY. 118.—Airmen. (Written for the Southland Times.) I. We are idle, we are cold, We hold the earth which is secure; And we grow never strong, nor bold, Nor feel a heaven—ascending lure. 11. We are the creatures of the hour, Groping with eyes fixed to the floor, Some trifling promise of gold or power Is life to us—we claim no more. 111. But you have scorned the crowded street Where ways of men teach no delight, And you have shared without defeat The eagle in his splendid flight. IV. Yours is a realm of ether white, While we the common footpath plod, You seek in an eternal light. The far unconquered heights of God. —Southerner. Invercargill, January 25.
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Bibliographic details
Southland Times, Issue 20394, 25 January 1928, Page 6
Word Count
123VAGRANT VERSE Southland Times, Issue 20394, 25 January 1928, Page 6
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