Her heart was like a violin
Upon whose strings there strayed
Only the singing of the earth--
The songs that nature made.
There roamed the voices of the winds,
The croon of lazy seas,
And little muted murmurings
Of summer-sleepy bees.
There soared the song of loosened floods
That laced the waterfalls--
The whisper of uncurling buds--
A blackbird's madrigals!
Her heart was like a violin
That sang undreamed of things,
And beauty was the magic bow
That swept those living strings!
First published in The Australasian, 16 November 1929
