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

25. Pity

THE TWINKLING mists of green and gold

Afloat in the abyss of air,

From out the window high and old

We watched together there.

The monstrous fabric of the town

Lay black below; the cries of pain

Came to our ears from up and down

The dimly-lighted lane.

Olive, your eyes were turned to me,

Seeking a soul to sympathise:

I wondered what that glow might be,

Olive, within your eyes.

Into your trembling words there passed

The sorrow that was sighed through you:

Pity, a breath from out the vast,

From unknown hollows blew.