GOLD DAWN.
Dav came like a dove To the apple trees and the wheat Her feathers were golden as love And silver her feet.
A song or a shower Shook the sweet leaf-shadows apart And. like a white moth to the Hower, Clung the dream of my heart.
And I know not now What the dawn made clear to m<’ there, Hut golden the light on the bough And silver the air. —Marjorie Pickthall.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/HBTRIB19271203.2.85.12
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Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume XVII, 3 December 1927, Page 11
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74GOLD DAWN. Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume XVII, 3 December 1927, Page 11
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