Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918.

85. The Veils of Maya

MOTHER, with whom our lives should be,

Not hatred keeps our lives apart:

Charmed by some lesser glow in thee,

Our hearts beat not within thy heart.

Beauty, the face, the touch, the eyes,

Prophets of thee, allure our sight

From that unfathomed deep where lies

Thine ancient loveliness and light.

Self-found at last, the joy that springs

Being thyself, shall once again

Start thee upon the whirling rings

And through the pilgrimage of pain.