Frank Samuel Williamson Poems

Where the dreaming Tiber wanders by the haunted Appian Way,
Lo! the nightingale is uttering a sorrow-burdened lay
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Rapunzel! O Rapunzel! you spread your golden hair,
You lured me to the Bushland, and took me in the snare
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There's a tumult in the distance, and a warsong in the air,
Where the foemen in their galleys, for another fight prepare,
For they whisper in the country, and they noise it in the town,
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Dear flag! Old flag! O, the blue and white,
Floating in the years long gone,
How our pulses beat,
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Long I've watched the eagle soaring, and the sun his colours pouring,
Till they fill the vale below me, as though with purple wine;
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His comrades bore him to the grave,
In column moving slow,
With pomp their faithful subjects gave
To monarchs long ago.
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Lulled by song of bird, and wind, melodies of seas;
Waiting for the white man's foot, through the centuries,
Pent in solitudes enchanted, dreamed the mighty trees.
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When Autumn, mother of the Spring,
Her days of waiting, numbering,
Walks musing in my garden ways,
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A breeze comes past me singing, and a white cloud slow is swinging,
Like a poppy that is parting from a slender hidden stem.
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Grey ashes of a crimson flower
Beneath the cedar shed,
The fire, that bloomed in Night's dark bower,
No more may raise its head.
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