...The Station-Homestead... (Southland)
Toss to me, Through years of childhood, A bouquet with the scents of summer days; Pungent gum-leaves-slim, blue-green daggers That stab the air of a remembered haze. Show to me The tussock-flowing ITills, that scarcely rise and slo ely fall; Thin grey rain-spears; snow-berries pallid ; A stony creck with waters musical. Come to me, Green paddocks, burrowed By silken rabbits; flock $s oer low hills spread; Iine-skimimed apples in a thick-sei orchard . I’hen I am dead These pleasant sights will hover Before the eyes of dreamers yet-unborn,
tnd be their spirils bread,
Beaumont
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/RADREC19320318.2.56
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Radio Record, Volume V, Issue 36, 18 March 1932, Unnumbered Page
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96...The Station-Homestead... (Southland) Radio Record, Volume V, Issue 36, 18 March 1932, Unnumbered Page
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