Page:The Poems of Henry Kendall (1920).djvu/380

 And while sweet Autumn with her gipsy face

Stands in the gardens, splashed from heel to thigh

With spinning vine-blood—yea, and when the mild,

Wan face of our Australian Winter looks

Across the congregated southern fens,

Then low, melodious, shell-like songs are heard

Beneath proud hulls and pompous clouds of sail,

By yellow beaches under lisping leaves

And hidden nooks to Youth and Beauty dear,

And where the ear may catch the counter-voice

Of Ocean travelling over far, blue tracts.

Moreover, when the moon is gazing down

Upon her lovely reflex in the wave,

(What time she, sitting in the zenith, makes

A silver silence over stirless woods),

Then, where its echoes start at sudden bells,

And where its waters gleam with flying lights,

The haven lies, in all its beauty clad,

More lovely even than the golden lakes

The poet saw, while dreaming splendid dreams

Which showed his soul the far Hesperides.

in this gold-green evening end,

While air is soft and sky is clear,

What tender message shall I send

To her I hold so dear?

What rose of song with breath like myrrh,

And leaf of dew and fair pure beams

Shall I select and give to her—

The lady of my dreams?

Alas! the blossom I would take,

The song as sweet as Persian speech,

And carry for my lady's sake,

Is not within my reach.

I have no perfect gift of words,

Or I would hasten now to send

A ballad full of tunes of birds

To please my lovely friend.