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From zero to zero an ice wind sweeps
As dark chords close the movement of day,
And the sky a mist of moisture weeps
On the loved one beached in a wave-lashed bay.
A two-barred fence defines the square
And gums on every side surround,
Here in the heart of the country where
There comes no faintest human sound.
In this stone all night the wild winds wail
As lightning jags through flattening rain,
And spitting cobras lash the rim.
And this graven name is a thinnest veil
A deathless heart through which shines plain;
These flowers, a gallery hung with him.
Michael Buhagiar
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