NOVEMBER DUSK.
When to your heart go home my long desires, Home to your eyes at last my tireless gaze,— Such time as lamps are lit and early fires, : / To keep us from the chill autumnal greys, " The world without appears a vasty space Where thin and whispering winds cry overmuch: But here is nearness, and your quiet face And usual words to say, and hands to touch. A lean, black branch keeps tugging at the pane, ' '•'"- And past our door the harried hosts blow by: The day goes out in gloom; a droning rain Sets in upon-the roof. .. . And you and I By our own hearthfor all the great world grieves Can smile to hear the forest. dropping leaves. David Morton, in Current Opinion..
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/NZT19190703.2.54
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New Zealand Tablet, 3 July 1919, Page 28
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125NOVEMBER DUSK. New Zealand Tablet, 3 July 1919, Page 28
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