Hubert Church (13 June 1857 – 8 April 1932 / Hobart, Tasmania)

Rosalind has come to town!
All the street’s a meadow,
Balconies are beeches brown
With a drowsy shadow,
And the long-drawn window panes
Are the foliage of her lanes.

Rosalind about me brings
Sunny brooks that quiver
Unto palpitating wings
Ere they kiss the river,
And her eyes are trusting birds
That do nestle without words.

Rosalind! to me you bear
Memories of a meeting
When the love-star smote the air
15
With a pulse’s beating:
Does your spirit love to pace
In the temple of that place?

Rosalind! be thou the fane
For my soul’s uprising,
Where my heart may reach again
Thoughts of heaven’s devising:
Be the solace self-bestowed
In the shrine of Love’s abode!