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Collected poems

by A. E. [i.e. G. W. Russell

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A MURMUR IN THE GRASS
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


344

A MURMUR IN THE GRASS

O pale-lipped blossom
Why do you sigh?
“For the many million
Times I must die
Ere I be as that glory
Up in the sky.”
Your sisters with beauty
Are satisfied.
Is it not envy
Dreams of such pride?
“No, there is nothing
To life denied.
“It would be unjust,
Unjust, if we
Could dream of a beauty
We might not be.
Life is becoming
All we see.

345

“I shall rise from the grass,
I shall fill all the blue,
And I shall be blossom
And fire and dew
In the boundlessness
We travel through.”