Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918.

98. The Seer

OH, if my spirit may foretell

Or earlier impart,

It is because I always dwell

With morning in my heart.

I feel the keen embrace of light

Ere dawning on the view

It sprays the chilly fold of night

With iridescent dew.

The robe of dust around it cast

Hides not the earth below,

Its heart of ruby flame, the vast

Mysterious gloom and glow.

Something beneath yon coward gaze

Betrays the royal line;

Its lust and hate, but errant rays,

Are at their root divine.

I hail the light of elder years

Behind the niggard mould,

The fiery kings, the seraph seers,

As in the age of gold.

And all about and through the gloom

Breaths from the golden clime

Are wafted like a sweet perfume

From some most ancient time.