Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918.

106. Love

ERE I lose myself in the vastness and drowse myself with the peace,

While I gaze on the light and the beauty afar from the dim homes of men,

May I still feel the heart-pang and pity, love-ties that I would not release;

May the voices of sorrow appealing call me back to their succour again.

Ere I storm with the tempest of power the thrones and dominions of old,

Ere the ancient enchantment allure me to roam through the star-misty skies,

I would go forth as one who has reaped well what harvest the earth may unfold;

May my heart be o’erbrimmed with compassion; on my brow be the crown of the wise.

I would go as the dove from the ark sent forth with wishes and prayers

To return with the paradise blossoms that bloom in the Eden of light:

When the deep star-chant of the seraphs I hear in the mystical airs,

May I capture one tone of their joy for the sad ones discrowned in the night.

Not alone, not alone would I go to my rest in the heart of the love:

Were I tranced in the innermost beauty, the flame of its tenderest breath,

I would still hear the cry of the fallen recalling me back from above,

To go down to the side of the people who weep in the shadow of death.