Treasure Island

Alice Guerin Crist

(6 February 1876 - 13 June 1941 / Clare Castle)

A Song Of Delight


Oh! Have you stolen out, one summer morning
To pick white crocus ‘neath the garden wall,
Or shaken softly the big scented roses
And watched the dew-drops fall?

Or slipt beneath the rail fence, grey with lichen,
And found the little brown path to the creek
In the deep hush of morn when all was silent
And soft airs fanned your cheek?

And caught he subtle scent of earth and mosses,
Of tender water-violets blue and white,
Or heard a little brown bird thrill with rapture,
Deep-hidden out of sight.

Or have you tracked a ‘coachman’s whip’ at noon-day
Through spicy scrub with tropic orchids gay,
Following its mocking ‘whish-h’ with eager footsteps
Until it dies away?

Oh have you caught the breath of glowing summer,
Rich with ripe passion-fruit and blackberry wine? –
Gone berry-hunting by the river reaches,
Where dancing waters shine?

Or have you seem the deep scrub-aisles by moonlight,
Where scented jasmine gleamed amid the shade,
Where moonrays lit great banks of white rock-lilies –
And listened unafraid.

To the soft stir of unseen life about you?
Give thanks to God, then, for your heart is right,
The treasure-house of Nature yours forever-
Her realms of pure delight.

Submitted: Monday, April 05, 2010

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