Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918.
173. Epilogue
W
Best within my narrow way,
May some angel of the sun
Muse memorial o’er my clay:
From the freedom of her state;
From her human uses stayed
On an idle rhyme to wait.
If the beauty lit a smile,
Or the heart was warm with love
That was pondering the while.
With the winds of time at strife,
Who could have before he went
Written on the book of life.
Empty handed, he goes home;
He who might have wrought in flame
Only traced upon the foam.”