THE UPWARD SONG.

I walked in quiet down a leafy way Green with late rains; And as Amergin thought in his old day Of lofty strains And musical faint rhythms that drooping chimed With lisp-leaf and with dew, I also thought and every footstep rhymed With some still thing that grew. The gentle ways are full of little songs Breezily blown; One spirit in the green forever longs Up to its own Its high sweet own in places of the light And clean, delicious wind; Godward or starward, dreams outreaching height And song outsinging mind. The world is like a tower from stair to stair; Each age builds on. The world is like a tree that lifts in air Leaves to the dawn. There is a singer in the topmost stone, Song in the topmost spray; And all the ages tremble to the blown High voice of climbing clay.
David McKee Wright N.S.W. The Bulletin, 12th May 1921, p. 3.