Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918.
89. The Grey Eros
W
Time is misty ages now
Since the warmth of heart to heart
Chased the shadows from my brow.
I am next of kin to Time,
The historian of her dreams
From the long-forgotten prime.
What a way was mine to roam!
Many a fallen empire’s towers,
Many a ruined heart my home.
All the dewy tender breath
Idly falls when life is done
On the starless brow of death.
In the ages long agone
There were ruby hearts of fire—
Ah, the daughters of the dawn!
I remember when our pride
Could not to the Mighty bow;
We would sweep His stars aside.
It were but to wither thee,
But to graft the youthful rose
On the old and flowerless tree.
To the sceptre and the crown.
Vain the wisdom, vain the truth;
Do not lay thy rapture down.