| Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918. |
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| 49. To the Poet |
| | | By Thomas Heney |
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| WHAT cares the rose if the buds which are its pride | |
| Be plucked for the breast of the dead or the hands of a bride? | |
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| The mother-drift if its pebbles be dull inglorious things, | |
| Or diamonds fit to shine from the diadems of kings? | |
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| Sing, O poet, the moods of thy moments each | 5 |
| Perfect to thee whatever the meaning it reach. | |
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| Let the years find if it be as a soulless stone, | |
| Or under the words which hide there be a glory alone. | |
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