Poets ’ Corner
THE YOUNGER LAND (Written for THE SUN) This stubborn beach, whereon are tossed White roses from the sea’s green bough, Has never sheathed a Roman prow , Nor flinched beneath a Norman host. Yet in my bones I feel the stir Of ancient wrongs and vanished ivoes, And through my troubled heart there goes The shadow of an old despair. A. R. D. FAIRBURN. EPITAPH (Written for THE SUN) Strange they should nod here in her garden bed — A red rose and a lily white as snow. Guarding the secrets of their virgin dead . . . Strange they should nod here in her garden bed. The dawn remembers that her lips were red, The eve that chaste white hands lie crossed belowj Strange they should nod here in her gardeyi bed — A red rose and a lily, white as snow. WINIFRED S. TENNANT.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/SUNAK19281102.2.164.4
Bibliographic details
Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 501, 2 November 1928, Page 14
Word Count
142Poets’ Corner Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 501, 2 November 1928, Page 14
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