SEA SPRAY ^ SMOKE DRIFT 



Bare and bleak is the hill side, 

 Barren and bleak the moor. 



Bright hues and shapes intertwisted, 



Fair forms and rich colours ; — now 

 They have flown — if e'er they existed — 



It matters not why or how, 

 It matters not where or when, dear, 



They have flown, the blue and the green, 

 I thought on what might be then, dear. 



Now I think on what might have been. 



What might have been ! — words of folly, 



What might be ! — speech for a fool ; 

 With mistletoe round me, and holly, 



Scarlet and green, at Yule, 

 With the elm in the place of the wattle, 



And in lieu of the gum, the oak, 

 Years back I believed a little. 



And as I believed I spoke. 



Have I done with those childish fancies ? 



They suited the days gone by, 

 When I pulled the poppies and pansies, 



When I hunted the butterfly, 



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