Dorothea Mackeller Poems

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 They're burning off at the Rampadells,
The tawny flames uprise,
With greedy licking around the trees;
The fierce breath sears our eyes. 

From cores already grown furnace-hot -
The logs are well alight!
We fling more wood where the flameless heart
Is throbbing red and white. 

The fire bites deep in that beating heart,
The creamy smoke-wreaths ooze
From cracks and knot-holes along the trunk
To melt in...Read more of this...

 This life that we call our own
Is neither strong nor free;
A flame in the wind of death,
It trembles ceaselessly. 

And this all we can do
To use our little light
Before, in the piercing wind,
It flickers into night: 

To yield the heat of the flame,
To grudge not, but to give
Whatever we have of strength,
That one more flame may live....Read more of this...

 WHEN the tall bamboos are clicking to the restless little breeze, 
And bats begin their jerky skimming flight, 
And the creamy scented blossoms of the dark pittosporum trees, 
Grow sweeter with the coming of the night. 

And the harbour in the distance lies beneath a purple pall, 
And nearer, at the garden’s lowest fringe, 
Loud the water soughs and...Read more of this...

 My Country 

The love of field and coppice 
Of green and shaded lanes, 
Of ordered woods and gardens 
Is running in your veins. 
Strong love of grey-blue distance, 
Brown streams and soft, dim skies 
I know, but cannot share it, 
My love is otherwise. 

I love a sunburnt country, 
A land of sweeping plains, 
Of ragged mountain ranges, 
Of...Read more of this...

 From my window I can see, 
Where the sandhills dip, 
One far glimpse of open sea. 
Just a slender slip 
Curving like a crescent moon— 
Yet a greater prize 
Than the harbour garden-fair 
Spread beneath my eyes. 

Just below me swings the bay, 
Sings a sunny tune, 
But my heart is far away 
Out beyond the dune; 
Clearer far...Read more of this...