WINGS

The moon has set, and heavy morning lies

Scarce breathing in the darkness, while the grass,
Drinking the cool, black dew, so faintly sighs
The very earth seems dying ripe to pass
To nothingness with all her weight of years.
Clamorous from some far distance, haggard fears
Seem gathering like foul birds to some foul prey,
Some dreadful thing no alchemy of tears
M ay wash away.

Grim dreamings batter at my soul's strong shield
To beat me down to ultimate despair;
But knowledge holds me, and I dare not yield
To fancies only born of darkened air.
Yet knowledge may betray me; for the truth
May blacken in the 'thought that earth's good youth
Died long ago in some rare age of gold
The .old hag world is losing tooth by tooth,
Grown sad and old.

And, somehow, some time, when the moon is set,
With an her anthill cities sunk in sleep,
A sigh will shake the darkness through the wet
Grass dripping, and :the mountains steep,
Brooding above the vales of little care;
And suddenly the world will choke for air,
Rise heavily with one last strangled cry;
And all that once was strong and once was fair
Shudder and die.

O truth, most blinded prophet, be more true
To that which strives within us towards the light!
Is there no peak from which a higher view
May lift, our eyes above eternal night
To cities of serene and holy thought
Where all of simple good we did or sought
Lives on above the nothingness of things?
Must the whole world J end, crucified for naught,'
Dreaming of wings?


David McKee Wright
N.S.W.
The Bulletin 30 Oct 1939


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