LEMNOS HARBOUR.

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 43, 14 January 1921, Page 1

LEMNOS HARBOUR.

The island sleeps — t>ut it has no delight For me, to whom that sleep has been unkind. My thoughts are long of what seems long ago, And long, too, ore my dreams, I do not know These trailing glories of the stars^ewn night Or the slow sough of the wind. I hear the rattle of the moving car The children crying in the lighted street. I walk along the same old asphalt way. I see the church, — I hear the organ play. I see the hills I wandered on afar. And spots of rain at my feet, I see the dust stewn hedge, — the latched gate; The gravelled path with roses either side; The cedar tree, — the lawn where I have lain, The pots of fern, — my mother's window pane. ,.'T see the place where I sat long and late By the treiiis deep and wide. The red Virginia crumbles at the wall The bed is bare where winter snowdrops grew. I feel my dog come licking at my Land. I pause awhile beside the door. I stand And hear the well known footsteps softly fall And the voices that I knew. I slowly creep and peep beneath the blind • — My father reads his book within his chair. Some children play their games of dominoes. My mother sits beside the fire and sews, Her head is bowed. I know her eyes are kind. By the grey lines in her hair, I tap the pane to see those tears unshed. I see all turn, and watch them sadly stirred By the sound, and. peer to see my face without. They see, and smile. I hear no welcome shout. Tliey sit and gaze as they that iseeithe dead, ■ But 110 one says a word. The island- sleeps. May sleep come soon to me, And lull these dreams within my shaken mind; —These dreams that tell me I haveseen the last Of those I left so, — lovedso in the past. I hear tne murmur of the moving sea, And the murmur of the wind.