July is like a lovely Spanish maid.
Beneath the lemon-tree I saw her stand,
Her arched foot poised; within her slender hand
The singing castanets with which she played.
Her grass-brown skirt was full, and, as she stayed,
Robins flashed red across the yellow land;
And all the willow boughs at her command
Changed into golden shawls their lace of jade.
She passed at dusk. I watched her turn and dance
Among the violets, the while she drew
My cold, reluctant soul into her dream,
Softly, seductive, of a Cid's romance...
Now, from Night's skies of clear Castilian blue,
Through lattices of stars her dark eyes gleam.
First published in The Bulletin, 27 July 1922
Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography, Old Qld Poetry
See also.
Beneath the lemon-tree I saw her stand,
Her arched foot poised; within her slender hand
The singing castanets with which she played.
Her grass-brown skirt was full, and, as she stayed,
Robins flashed red across the yellow land;
And all the willow boughs at her command
Changed into golden shawls their lace of jade.
She passed at dusk. I watched her turn and dance
Among the violets, the while she drew
My cold, reluctant soul into her dream,
Softly, seductive, of a Cid's romance...
Now, from Night's skies of clear Castilian blue,
Through lattices of stars her dark eyes gleam.
First published in The Bulletin, 27 July 1922
Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography, Old Qld Poetry
See also.
