THE SEED SHOP
Here in a quiet and dusty room they lie, Faded as crumbled stone or shifting sand, Forlorn as ashes, shrivelled, scentless, dry, Meadows and gardens running through my hand. Dead that shall quicken at the call of Spring, Sleepers to stir beneath June’s magic kiss, Though birds pass over, unrememberAnd no bee seek here roses that were hW. In this brown husk a dale of hawthorn dreams, A cedar in this narrow cell is thrust That will drink deeply of a century’s streams, These lilies shall make summer on my dust. Here in their safe and simple house of death, Sealed in their shells and a million roses leap; Here I can blow a garden with my breath, And in my hand a forest lies asleep. —Muriel Stewart. IF I FALL If I fall I hinder all; If I rise To the skies, I shall help to drag the load One step farther on the road, On -.the common round we climb, Dead and living for all time. —Janet Begbie. WISDOM A wise old owl Lived in an oak: The more he heard The less he spoke; The less he spoke The more he heard: Why can’t we be Like this wise bird?
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/SUNAK19270720.2.144
Bibliographic details
Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 101, 20 July 1927, Page 12
Word Count
206THE SEED SHOP Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 101, 20 July 1927, Page 12
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