The Young Captive
The budding shoot ripens unharmed by the scythe,
Without fear of the press, on vine branches lithe,
Through spring-tide the green clusters bloom.
Is't strange, then, that I in my life's morning hour,
Our Casuarina Tree
LIKE a huge Python, winding round and round
The rugged trunk, indented deep with scars,
Up to its very summit near the star
Sitting in a porchway cool,
Sunlight, I see, dying fast,
Twilight hastens on to rule.
Working hours have well-nigh past.
Love Came To Flora Asking For A Flower
Love came to Flora asking for a flower
That would of flowers be undisputed queen,
The lily and the rose, long, long had been
A waif on this earth,
Sick, ugly and small,
Contemned from my birth
And rejected by all,