VAGRANT VERSE
SEA MEADOWS. I love all meadows, But I long to be Near tawny meadows Running to the sea; Stretching their broad arms To enfold once more The shy, restless waves That creep to the shore. Great tawny meadows Swirled by every breeze, Greenish-gold meadows Barren of all trees. Sheltered from the reach Of disturbing hands, Mysterious and moist, Wild, untrodden lands. Rose-hued, lush meadows, At the sunset hour Holding for the sea A rich, secret dower. Marshy wide meadows On whose broad sweep Tiny waves creep in To rest and sleep. I love all meadows But I long to be Near tawny meadows Reaching to the sea. —Eleanor G. R. Young, in the Christian Science Monito
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ST19270118.2.19
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Southland Times, Issue 20080, 18 January 1927, Page 4
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118VAGRANT VERSE Southland Times, Issue 20080, 18 January 1927, Page 4
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