Extract from Poem ‘Home, Wounded‘
By Sydney Thompson Dobell
There blows
The first primrose,
Under the bare bank roses.
There is but one,
And the bank is brown,
But soon the children will come down,
The ringing children come singing down,
To pick their Easter posies,
And they’ll spy it out, my beautiful,
Among the bare brier-roses;
And when I sit here again alone,
The bare brown bank will be blind and dull,
Alas for Easter posies!
LOVELY POEM