Sydney Jephcott Poems

The wreckage of some name-forgotten barque,
   Half-buried by the dolorous shore;
   Whereto the living waters never more
   Their urgent billows pour;
...

There was a King of Thule
   Whom a Witch-wife stole at birth;
In a country known but newly,
   All under the dumb, huge Earth.
...

But, under all, my heart believes the day
Was not diviner over Athens, nor
The West wind sweeter thro' the Cyclades
Than here and now; and from the altar of To-day
...

Morning.

   Out from the hut at break of day,
   And up the hills in the dawning grey;
...

O gracious morning eglantine,
Making the far old English ways divine!
Though from thy stock our mateless rose was bred,
Staining the world's skies with its red,
...

Smooth white paper 'neath the pen;
   Richest field that iron ploughs,
Germinating thoughts of men,
   Though no heaven its rain allows;
...