This do I say:
I am a reed of Pan
Blown out of a blue day!
Muted within the walls of man,
Where green gods throng,
I play
My song!
The sun, the moon
Find marvellous voice in me.
I pipe the lost wind's tune.
My hollow stem doth hold a bee,
In me runs rife
The rune
Of life!
A reed of Pan!
A slender, shaken thing,
Made for so short a span!
Yet the wild music that I sing
Shall linger on
When man
Is gone!
First published in The Australian Woman's Mirror, 8 November 1927
