Poem Hunter
(1892 - 1977 / Australia)


I see wild waves that break, and breaking-run;
And the wild sea-birds wheeling round the ships;
But at the dawn, the coming of the sun,
I see your red, red lips.

I see the cold moon now with fresh delight;
And the stars arise anew, and yet arise;
But in the night, the blackness of the night
I see your sad, sad eyes.

I hear the engines throbbing as we ride;
And the men’s songs. I hear great throats
But in the silence, when all the songs have died,
I hear your soft, soft voice.

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