An Anthology of Australian Verse Part 9

Faith

And is the great cause lost beyond recall?

Have all the hopes of ages come to naught?

Is life no more with n.o.ble meaning fraught?

Is life but death, and love its funeral pall?

Maybe. And still on bended knees I fall, Filled with a faith no preacher ever taught.

O G.o.d -- MY G.o.d -- by no false prophet wrought -- I believe still, in despite of it all!

Let go the myths and creeds of groping men.

This clay knows naught -- the Potter understands.

I own that Power divine beyond my ken, And still can leave me in His shaping hands.

But, O my G.o.d, that madest me to feel, Forgive the anguish of the turning wheel!

Alexander Bathgate.

The Clematis

Fair crown of stars of purest ray, Hung aloft on Mapau tree, What floral beauties ye display, Stars of snowy purity; Around the dark-leaved mapau's head Unsullied garlands ye have spread.

Concealed were all thy beauties rare 'Neath the dark umbrageous shade, But still to gain the loftiest spray, Thy weak stem its efforts made; Now, every obstacle o'ercome, Thou smilest from thy leafy home.

That home secure, 'mid sombre leaves Yielded by thy stalwart spouse, Helps thee to show thy fairy crown, Decorates his dusky boughs: His strength, thy beauty, both unite And form a picture to delight.

Fair flower, methinks thou dost afford Emblem of a perfect wife, Whose work is hidden from the world, Till, perchance, her husband's life Is by her influence beautified, And this by others is descried.

Philip Joseph Holdsworth.

Quis Separabit?

All my life's short years had been stern and sterile -- I stood like one whom the blasts blow back -- As with s.h.i.+pmen whirled through the straits of Peril, So fierce foes menaced my every track.

But I steeled my soul to a strong endeavour, I bared my brow as the sharp strokes fell, And I said to my heart -- "Hope on! Hope ever: Have Courage -- Courage, and all is well."

Then, bright as the blood in my heart's rich chalice, O Blossom, Blossom! -- you came from far; And life rang joy, till the World's loud malice Shrilled to the edge of our utmost star.

And I said: "On me let the rough storms hurtle, The great clouds gather and shroud my sun -- But you shall be Queen where the rose and myrtle Laugh with the year till the year is done."

So my Dream fell dead; and the fluctuant pa.s.sion -- The stress and strain of the past re-grew, The world laughed on in its heedless fas.h.i.+on, But Earth whirled worthless, because of you!

In that Lake of Tears which my grief discovered, I laid dead Love with a pa.s.sionate kiss, And over those soundless depths has hovered The sweet, sad wraith of my vanished bliss.

Heart clings to Heart -- let the strange years sever The fates of two who had met -- to part; Love's strength survives, and the harsh world never Shall crush the pa.s.sion of heart for heart;

For I know my life, though it droop and dwindle, Shall leave me Love till I fade and die, And when hereafter our Souls re-kindle, Who shall be fonder -- You or I?

My Queen of Dreams

In the warm flushed heart of the rose-red west, When the great sun quivered and died to-day, You pulsed, O star, by yon pine-clad crest -- And throbbed till the bright eve ashened grey -- Then I saw you swim By the shadowy rim Where the grey gum dips to the western plain, And you rayed delight As you winged your flight To the mystic spheres where your kinsmen reign.

O star, did you see her? My queen of dreams!

Was it you that glimmered the night we strayed A month ago by these scented streams?

Half-checked by the litter the musk-buds made?

Did you sleep or wake?

Ah, for Love's sweet sake (Though the world should fail and the soft stars wane!) I shall dream delight Till our souls take flight To the mystic spheres where your kinsmen reign!

Mary Hannay Foott.

Where the Pelican Builds

The horses were ready, the rails were down, But the riders lingered still -- One had a parting word to say, And one had his pipe to fill.

Then they mounted, one with a granted prayer, And one with a grief unguessed.

"We are going," they said, as they rode away -- "Where the pelican builds her nest!"

They had told us of pastures wide and green, To be sought past the sunset's glow; Of rifts in the ranges by opal lit; And gold 'neath the river's flow.

And thirst and hunger were banished words When they spoke of that unknown West; No drought they dreaded, no flood they feared, Where the pelican builds her nest!

The creek at the ford was but fetlock deep When we watched them crossing there; The rains have replenished it thrice since then, And thrice has the rock lain bare.

But the waters of Hope have flowed and fled, And never from blue hill's breast Come back -- by the sun and the sands devoured -- Where the pelican builds her nest.

New Country