This lovely golden little summer day
I simply took and blithely stole away.
If theft of Time be stealing precious hours,
And squandering them like garlands of pluck't flowers.
I was a thief this golden little day --
This lovely little day I lazed away.
Oakflowers were blown on every happy hill
Parrots sped by me at their own wild will.
And I as free, moved leisurely along
Singing myself a careless gipsy song;
And wilful still in unrepentant rhyme
I hid the little day I stole from Time.
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 20 February 1939
