| Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918. |
| |
| 159. Hamilton |
| | | By Marie E. J. Pitt |
| |
| |
| WILD and wet, and windy wet falls the night on Hamilton, | |
| Hamilton that seaward looks unto the setting sun, | |
| Lady of the patient face, lifted everlastingly, | |
| Veiled and hushed and mystical as a cloistered nun. | |
| |
| O the days, the cruel days creeping over Hamilton | 5 |
| Like a train of haggard ghosts, homeless and accursed, | |
| Moaning for a fleet o’ dream silver-sailed and wonderful, | |
| Moaning for a sorrow’s sake, the fairest and the first. | |
| |
| O the moon, the lonely moon, leaning low on Hamilton, | |
| Thro’ the years that sunder us the dead come back, come back, | 10 |
| Scent of white eucrephia stars blown on winds of Memory, | |
| Glint and gleam of fagus gold adown the torrent’s track. | |
| |
| Half my heart is buried there, buried high on Hamilton, | |
| Lonely is the sepulchre with never stone for sign, | |
| Where the nodding myrtle-plumes stand like sable sentinels | 15 |
| And the ruddy rimony wreathes the hooded pine. | |
| |
| Half my heart is yearning yet, yearning yet for Hamilton, | |
| Hamilton beyond the surge of sobbing Southern main, | |
| O the croon of wistful winds calling, calling, calling me, | |
| Where the mottled mountain thrush is singing in the rain. | 20 |
| |
| We shall ne’er go back again, back again to Hamilton, | |
| Heart o’ me, our track is toward the heart of burning day, | |
| Hills beyond the call of hills beaconing and beckoning— | |
| Westward, westward winds the track, a thread of dusky grey. | |
| |
|
|
|
