THE DAY SEEKER They showed her grave beneath the trees; But he, because he saw her

face Radiant with last year's memories, Turned smiling from the leafy place. And as he turned he heard her call His name with laughter from the hill; The shadows on the grass were tall, The setting sun was red and still. The pale priest watched him go his way And sighed with close-pressed finger tips; Yet, pitying, wondered at the gay And sudden whistle on his lips. The hill in plumes of glory drest Blazed the full triumph day had won; He strode into the crimson west, Half man, half flame against the sun. The priest along the beaten track Went softly with a strange, slow look, So heavy seemed the mortal load Upon his heart of one small book. Above her head the grasses wave, The grey thrush knows the quiet place; But how should he regard her grave Who heard her voice and saw her face? Dust unto dust. The thin airs fill With thinner sighs, and day is done I saw a lover on the hill Who walked in glory to the sun!
David McKee Wright. N.S.W. The Bulletin, 4 January 1923.