| Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918. |
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| 11. A Regret |
| | | By Charles Harpur |
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| THERE’S a regret that from my bosom aye | |
| Wrings forth a dirgy sweetness, like a rain | |
| Of deathward love; that ever in my brain | |
| Uttereth such tones as in some foregone way | |
| Seem gathered from the harmonies that start | 5 |
| Into the dayspring, when some rarest view | |
| Unveileth its Tempean grace anew | |
| To meet the sun—the great world’s fervent heart. | |
| ’Tis that, though living in his tuneful day, | |
| My boyhood might not see the gentle smile, | 10 |
| Nor hear the voice of Shelley; that away | |
| His soul had journeyed, ere I might beguile | |
| In my warm youth, by some fraternal lay, | |
| One thought of his towards this my native isle. | |
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