VAGRANT VERSE
THE ORETI ANTHOLOGY. 207.—At its True Prime. (Written for the Southland Times.) The song is done, The chorus dies away, A muted music All of yesterday. And yet will time Gild every word again With some strange glory Like a dream of Spain. This marble vase With figures cut thereon Gives pictures of an age Forgotten, gone. Then, clear the dust away Its value is with time, It is for us to-day, At its true prime. So everything of craft Hard wrought by brain or hand, With ancient clarity Is never aught but grand. .For it is art at best And it is melody, It is the heart of truth, And it is memory. —Southerns Invercargill, April 21.
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Bibliographic details
Southland Times, Issue 20665, 22 April 1929, Page 6
Word Count
120VAGRANT VERSE Southland Times, Issue 20665, 22 April 1929, Page 6
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