BRISBANE
City of the seven hills and the high-lord Sun,
Cool with jade gums, hot with Poinsettia's flame-tongued blooms,
Circled by sheening river, as a cool arm flung
Over a lover sleeping in the white glazed noons;
Witch of my tropic dreams, I am caught in spell,
All other loves forgotten for the glamorous you,
And I sleep with you, and wake with you, and smell
Sleep-scent no other couch did ever love bestrew.
Seven crowned city, breeze sweet and mellow with dews;
Maiden, light-hearted, unscarred by a conqueror's sword,
You have smiled and bewitched me, I have seen and I choose;
City of hills and temptings, and velvet greensward,
I am yours for the sweet honey breath of your mouth,
I am yours for your youth, the earth laughter of you,
And I shall not grieve for my old loves of the South,
I, who have loved them deep, cast', them off like a shoe.
City of sun-hot kisses and the frank nymph eyes,
It is not your city voice that commands me stay,
But the whispering hills, the beckon of turquoise skies,
And the emerald roads out past the tram-end's way;
One eagle's wing-flap will soar me into the hills,
Where the birds are, and children with seagull-naked feet,
Sudden bush, and grass for my tread, such are you thrills,
City of the seven hills where the rainbows meet.
Brian Vrepont, The Telegraph Brisbane, Saturday 20 June 1936, p16.