Sydney Thompson Dobell - The Botanist's Vision

Sydney Thompson Dobell - The Botanist's Vision

The sun that in Breadalbane's lake doth fall br Was melting to the sea down golden Tay, br When a cry came along the peopled way, br 'Sebastopol is ours!' From that wild call br I turned, and leaning on a time-worn wall br Quaint with the touch of many an ancient day, br The mappèd mould and mildewed marquetry br Knew with my focussed soul; which bent down all br Its sense, power, passion, to the sole regard br Of each green minim, as it were but born br To that one use. I strode home stern and hard; br In my hot hands I laid my throbbing head, br And all the living world and all the dead br Began a march which did not end at morn.


User: PoemHunter.com

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Uploaded: 2014-11-10

Duration: 00:58

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