Frank Wilmot

(6 April 1881 - 22 February 1942 / Collingwood, Melbourne)

The Last Port


I WROUGHT and battled and wept, near and afar
I scanned the secret of the bud and star.

Hill-road and desert, and the hurrying street
Know well the impress of my restless feet!

Then some one came with soft, caressing glance,
Slow, like a woman out of all romance.

Love closed around me these warm, folded wings—
That was the end of all my wanderings.

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

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