In my heart’s garden, overgrown,
The careless wind a stray seed planted,
It throve, in dark dank mosses sown,
Where never ray of sunshine slanted.
And day by day I watched it grow,
Till fell things sickened in their places,
And blossoms dead long years ago
Reached up their pale and faded faces.
But soon a sullen Wind, that swept,
And moaned, around my secret bower,
Came peering through the leaves that kept
A screen about my stolen flower.
I parried him, with weak decrial –
A worthless thing, the breeze had tost –
“In vain, oh Heart! is thy denial –
I seek a seed that I have lost.’’
No more its tendrils twine and cling,
Its buds the cruel Wind hath looted;
A broken, soiled, and ruined thing
It lies upon my heart, uprooted.
Oh, waste and bare and barren space!
Arise, ye rank and bitter grasses,
And heal and cover up the space;
For pain must pass as passion passes.
‘The Seed,’ Australian Town and Country Journal 17 May 1905: 35.
See also Verses 1905: 52.