Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918.

52. Parting

AS from our dream we died away

Far off I felt the outer things;

Your wind-blown tresses round me play,

Your bosom’s gentle murmurings.

And far away our faces met

As on the verge of the vast spheres;

And in the night our cheeks were wet,

I could not say with dew or tears.

As one within the Mother’s heart

In that hushed dream upon the height

We lived, and then we rose to part,

Because her ways are infinite.