Appreciation
When I can see a liquid sunset sky— Yet cease to marvel; when my sombre eyes Can spare but one glance for a virgin tree. And when within my throat no ecstasy Answers the night-wind’s call— Then let me die. For on these things my quivering senses feed: Dewdrops aglisten, new green spears of grass, And when I cannot greet with joy the day, May the poor leaden spirit soar away, Then will all living be, Dreary indeed. —3 marks to Cousin Chrissie Ross (15), Maia, Dunedin.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ST19340203.2.121.12
Bibliographic details
Southland Times, Issue 22240, 3 February 1934, Page 18
Word Count
88Appreciation Southland Times, Issue 22240, 3 February 1934, Page 18
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