SYDNEY
25
Mocking Maori idols in the wide arcade . . .
Or a blue-eyed baby with her black-eyed maid
When the doves are cooing in a rustling glade
And the bright geraniums flank the Gardens' gate . . .
Or a tragic harpy with a mouth of hate
Slinking where in darkness Lust and Murder wait. . .
Or a blue-eyed baby with her black-eyed maid
When the doves are cooing in a rustling glade
And the bright geraniums flank the Gardens' gate . . .
Or a tragic harpy with a mouth of hate
Slinking where in darkness Lust and Murder wait. . .
Portly dames in crackling silks, thin lips overwise,
Gliding by in motor-cars of a mighty size,
Paris gloves, expensive shoes, avaricious eyes. . .
Fluted roofs at Mosman, South Head's swinging lights,
And the lure of laughter in the summer nights,
When we twist hot scarlets thro' our day-time whites!
Gliding by in motor-cars of a mighty size,
Paris gloves, expensive shoes, avaricious eyes. . .
Fluted roofs at Mosman, South Head's swinging lights,
And the lure of laughter in the summer nights,
When we twist hot scarlets thro' our day-time whites!
Sun-flecked paths at Hunter's Hill, boughs across the sky;
Time in muffled sandals shuffling slowly by,
Piling records, resin sweet, where pine-needles lie. . .
One sail flashing westward on a sunset cruise,
In the hush of midnight, little clicking shoes . . .
Or the pad of naked feet out at La Perouse!
Time in muffled sandals shuffling slowly by,
Piling records, resin sweet, where pine-needles lie. . .
One sail flashing westward on a sunset cruise,
In the hush of midnight, little clicking shoes . . .
Or the pad of naked feet out at La Perouse!
······
The nectar of magnolias, the sob of a violin,
A dawn-wind sane as virtue, a night-wind sick as sin,
And a year-round wide-set window to let the dream-folk in!
A dawn-wind sane as virtue, a night-wind sick as sin,
And a year-round wide-set window to let the dream-folk in!
