I passed thro' the city markets
On a cold and clear June day,
The air was full of dancing motes
From dust of the unbound hay.
The sunshine from the open door
Shone on mounds of gold and green:
The gleanings of moist meadow lands,
With the amber fruit between.
There was treasure of scented apples
That had prisoned the sunset's glow,
Where anxious buyers and sellers
Vent hurrying to and fro.
And the voices of the city
Came, as in a dream, to me.
I was a boy on the farm again,
By the grey Pacific sea.
The crow's feet smoothed from my eyes.
And Youth, with a laugh, came back
Where the green sugar-cane enflanks
The thread of the bridle truck.
I held her close in the shade;
She lifted her face to me,
And Time stood still; we grew not old
In the farm beside the sea.
First published in The Bulletin, 9 January 1908
