Robert Crawford

(1868 - 13 January 1930 / Australia)

A River Isle.


A little island in the river
There is, round which the breezes quiver
Like sweet birds that would stay
A moment on their way,
So green it is with leaves and grass,
And chequered by the clouds that pass
Far over in the blue above:
As sweet with flowers as life with love,
And breathing of a mood
That, like a wild bird in the city's din,
Though far from all its kith and kin,
Sustains its solitude.

Submitted: Wednesday, April 21, 2010

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