This opal-hearted month is laced with gold,
Her yellow robes sweep thro' the dust of flowers;
She has her slow, sweet nights, her mist-blue hours
Of twilight, and her amber arms enfold
Spring blooms and summer! -- Mystic month, I see
A sprig of Hope amid your blossomry!
First published in The Courier-Mail, 7 October 1933
