Pine seont brings back the blue hills of my homeland; Salt air, the thunder of an offshore gale, And sawe,'a painted desert in the moonlight, Mysterious and pale, ink that we forget when, e's cool fingers Have closed the wound and soothed away the pain—Then comes a breath, and all the things forgotten flooding back again, lat a poignant lovely thing has faded Now that a hurt is healed, a grief is gone—God grant me thi forever to know no more Red roses in the dawn.. 5
.T. Davis.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.