A VERSE
FRANCE. In another world the olives grow, Grey-green beneath a golden sun. These decked the jewelled hours we knew —Ere dire and darkness deeds were done— The hours that tarnished one by one. The flowers we gathered there are dead, The wine and peaches turned to dust, Down shadowed ways with stealthy tread We go; but now because we must . . That golden world is red with rust.
Irene Stiles in the “ Sunday Times” London.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TAWC19411015.2.32
Bibliographic details
Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 63, Issue 4490, 15 October 1941, Page 4
Word Count
76A VERSE Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 63, Issue 4490, 15 October 1941, Page 4
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