Anzac Day, 1923

A cold room, a desolate elderberry tree,
Wet roofs beyond, a hint of masts and cranes
Fog-blurred, and dreariness in the heart of me
With thoughts of wasted years flown by. While Janes
In summer bloom in hawthorn, and ships pass at sea,
Gladly alight in the gloom, and street refrains
Ring clashing in cities overseas, I have stayed
Book-dreaming till joy with dust is all o'erlaid.

Did you feel so, in those dim days of yesteryear,
When the lands blinking awoke, dull-eyed and white,
Till sloth was shaken? Came there love and fear,
Or chivalry with roving sword bedight?
For little you recked of blasted manhood, sere,
Wind winnowed, or the heavy weary night,
Till now the cold and dreary days were Paradise,
And summer days High Heaven, had you but lips or eyes.

R.F.F.