[Editor: This poem by Kenneth Mackay was published in Stirrup Jingles from the Bush and the Turf and Other Rhymes (1887).]
Fair is Thy Form.
Fair is thy form where love half-sleeping lies,
Tender thy voice as the last note that dies
On summer air, when breezes soft and low
Through forest harps on moonlit evenings blow.
Scented and soft thy wondrous falls of hair,
Something to love each bright tress coiling there, —
Great golden cords to bind me to thy feet —
Bright gilded bars through which to woo thee, sweet.
Tenderly dreamful thy lash-shrouded eyes,
Gentle as moonlight, clear as cloudless skies —
Turning my life as the flower to the sun —
Drawing my heart to thee, beautiful one.
Soft as the dewy moss — crimson thy lips,
As some new-wakened rose where the bee sips,
Bright one, I long to taste e’en as the bee,
So, like thy sister rose, yield love to me!
Kenneth Mackay, Stirrup Jingles from the Bush and the Turf and Other Rhymes, Sydney: Edwards, Dunlop & Co., 1887, page 75
e’en = even
Old spelling in the original text: