The Spike: or, Victoria University College Review, June 1929
Over he hill the wind is playing,
Over the hill and dowen to the sea;
High on the hill the spear-grass swaying,
And down on the beach the quivering tree.
All alone in the grassy hollow
The wind is straying and waiting for me;
Calling aloud for me to follow
Follow him down to the winter sea.
Laughing, merry, the care-free rover,
Sprinkling the sand with the spattering spray;
In the whispering shade as the clouds pass over,
O frolic with me and the wind to-day!
Down on the beach the wind is sighing,
Tired in the shivering evening light;
The poppy flower on the wet sand lying.
And the hill all dark with the shadow of night.