...Recompense...
‘ met the Day at dewy dawn, She took my cayer hand, And, laughing, led me thro’ the morn ; To view the sun-washed land. She poured her treasures at my feet, And bade me take amy choice; I chose a golden-headed flower, A bird with silver. voice. Ve were so busy, she and I! So happy! until Day Turned pale, and slipped her hand from mine, «Ind softly stole away.
I wandered lonely thro’ the dusk; My golden flower died. My bird reposed in friendly bush: The solemn South Wind sighed. But Night came winging from the sky; ITer dark hair flouted long. The stars shone forth to welconve her; My heart perceived her song. She took me in her gentle arnts, Upon her bosom deep; She stooped and kissed my tired ees, «Ind then she gave me... sleep.
O.E.
H.
Blewhei:
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/RADREC19310724.2.52.3
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Radio Record, Volume V, Issue 2, 24 July 1931, Unnumbered Page
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142...Recompense... Radio Record, Volume V, Issue 2, 24 July 1931, Unnumbered Page
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