Poetry. SHADOWS.
The moon a light-hung world of gold, Low-drooping, pale, and phantom fair ; The fresh pomp of the summer leaves, And fragrance in the breathing air. Beneath the trees flat silhouettes, Mute idiot shapes that shun the light, Weired crook-kneed things, a fickle crew, The restless children of the night. In idle vacant pantomime They nod and nod for evermore, And clutch with aimless fluttering hands, With thin black hands, the leaf- strewn floor. Quivering, wavering there forever, On the bright and silent ground, Meshed and tangied' there together, While the rolling earth goes round. And the gold-tinged aery ocean Ripples light in manj a breeze O'er the sweet-breathed purple lilac, O'er the tall and slumbering trees. But comes the dawn, The spell is dono ; Weird spirits flee Atriße of sun.
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Waikato Times, Volume XIX, Issue 1574, 5 August 1882, Page 5
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132Poetry. SHADOWS. Waikato Times, Volume XIX, Issue 1574, 5 August 1882, Page 5
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