"What beautiful lawns! Here is a place to dream in."

What (said the poet) should we care
   For all this mad world's phantasies,
For rumours rife upon the air
   Of terrors looming overseas?
If so, the soul were plagued alway
   With far-fetched grieving, what of mirth?
For somewhere sorror broods all day;
   Yet laughter, too, inhabits earth.

For the sun shines and the grass grows,
   And the ferns nod above the stream
That down this placid valley flows;
   Then let us rest a while, and dream.
For the grass grows as the sun shines,
   And the stream flows and sings a song
To chide the sad heart that repines
   Ah, summer, summer, linger long!

What (I gave answer) badgers me
   Are not the tragedies of earth.
Despite your gay philosophy
   Of seeking joy and claiming mirth
For boon companions as you go,
   Oft times these very joys oppress
And suns that shine and streams that flow
   May be a source of weariness.

For the grass grows and the sun gleams
   To sear the grass and, where they flow,
I must bring water from the streams
   To make the blinking grass to grow.
And the sun gleams and the grass grows --
   Indeed I know it well enough;
For as it springs where water flows
   I've got to cut the blasted stuff.

"Den"
Herald, 22 November 1934, p6