VAGRANT VERSE
THE FORSAKEN. (Written for the Southland Times.) Shall I sing? There is no singing In my heart, nor anything But the love about me clinging. I the song, and you the singer. Let us fling Thought away lest song be winging Songster, sing! Shall I fly? What use in flying When my trampled mind must lie In her foot-prints. Broken sighing Never yet has made a flier. What means high To a soul that’s slowly dying? Can I fly? What is singing? What is flying? Can thy winging speed my dying? Does the melody you sing Harmonise with anything? —Brunnhilde. Invercargill, July 13, 1928.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ST19280714.2.28
Bibliographic details
Southland Times, Issue 20538, 14 July 1928, Page 6
Word Count
106VAGRANT VERSE Southland Times, Issue 20538, 14 July 1928, Page 6
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