THE CALL
PRIZE-WINNING POEM is it a gull that cries landward—a grey gull, crying? ; The north wind risen from sleep? The sound of the sullen surge, in ' wrath replying— An angry deep! Oh, wan, white moon, you shrink, by clouds affrighted. In driving storm.! Shall we think, in the tossing spray, of the window, lighted, The firelight warm? Wind, through the flying foam, in the darkness falling, Blow, wild and free! I hear, through the winter night, the great sea calling. The great sea—calling me! —Becky Pelham, Royal Oak (aged 13). rK * ri- *
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/SUNAK19271001.2.202.17
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Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 164, 1 October 1927, Page 27 (Supplement)
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93THE CALL Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 164, 1 October 1927, Page 27 (Supplement)
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