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

27. Dust

I HEARD them in their sadness say,

“The earth rebukes the thought of God;

We are but embers wrapped in clay

A little nobler than the sod.”

But I have touched the lips of clay,

Mother, thy rudest sod to me

Is thrilled with fire of hidden day,

And haunted by all mystery.