Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918.
136. Recollection
T
Flower rich the night, flower soft the air, a blue flower the stream
I hurried over before I came to the cabin door,
Where the orange flame-glow danced within on the beaten floor.
And the lovely mother who drooped by the sleeping child arose:
And I see how with love her eyes are glad, her face how it glows.
And I know all this was past ten thousand years away,
But in the Ever-Living yesterday is here to-day,
And the beauty made dust we cry out for with so much pain.
Unknown lover, I lived over your joy again.
Long dead maiden, your breasts were warm for the living head.
It is we who have passed from ourselves, from beauty which is not dead.
I know, when I come to my own immortal, I will find there
In a myriad instant all that the wandering soul found fair:
Empires that never crumbled, and thrones all glorious yet,
And hearts ere they were broken, and eyes ere they were wet.