Arthur Patchett Martin (18 February 1851 – 15 February 1902 / Woolwich, Kent, England)
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Bushland
Not sweeter to the storm-tossed mariner
Is glimpse of home, where wife and children wait
To welcome him with kisses at the gate,
Than to the town-worn man the breezy stir
Of mountain winds on rugged pathless heights:
His long-pent soul drinks in the deep delights
That Nature hath in store. The sun-kissed bay
Gleams thro' the grand old gnarled gum-tree boughs
Like burnished brass; the strong-winged bird of prey
Sweeps by, upon his lonely vengeful way --
While over all, like breath of holy vows,
The sweet airs blow, and the high-vaulted sky
Looks down in pity this fair Summer day
On all poor earth-born creatures doomed to die.
Read poems about / on: lonely, summer, nature, children, tree, home, sky, sun, kiss, wind, child
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I wait,
the man in grey.
The apple's,
poisoned
tree.
As I, await.
Each ship,
that comes in.
Leaving me without doubts....iip
there's sadness on this poem