Robert Richardson

(1850-1901 / Australia)

A Song - Poem by Robert Richardson

Above us only
   The Southern stars,
And the moon o'er brimming
   Her golden bars.
And a song sweet and clear
   As the bell-bird's plaint,
Hums low in my ear
   Like a dream-echo faint.
   The kind old song --
   How did it go?
   With its ripple and flow,
   That you used to sing, dear,
   Long ago.

Hand fast in hand,
   I, love, and thou;
Hand locked in hand,
   And on my brow
Your perfumed lips
   Breathing love and life --
The love of the maiden,
   The trust of the wife.
   And I'm listening still
   To the ripple and flow --
   How did it go? --
   Of the little French song
   Of that long ago.

Can you recall it
   Across the years?
You used to sing it
   With laughter and tears.
If you sang it now, dear,
   That kind old refrain,
It would bring back the fragrance
   Of the dead years again.
   Le printemps pour l'amour --
   How did it go?
   Only we know;
   Sing it, sweetheart, to-night,
   As you did long ago.


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Read poems about / on: song, trust, laughter, moon, dream, love, night, star



Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 4, 2003



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