The Phoenix by William Gerald Golding

The phoenix rose again and flew
With crest and plume and pinion
In splendour from grey ashes flashing
Like a jewel turned beneath the sun

In cities and in palaces,
Or toiling through the hot dumb sand
Bare-footed in the barren hills,
Men saw – and would not understand.

But some there were among the fields
That let the swerving plough jolt on
And stood and gazed against the light
Through wide eyes filled with tears as bright,
Until the burning bird was gone.

Oh Phoenix! did they hear as I
The agony, the lonely cry
Of mateless, mateless, mateless Beauty,
Echoing in the desert sky?

From: “Contemporary Poetry” in The Courier-Mail (Brisbane, Qld), Saturday, 15 December 1934, p. 12.

Date: 1934

By: William Gerald Golding (1911-1993)

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