ONE may go a-many leagues a-questing yon and hither; <br />One may look on queens and kings, and think the vision bliss; <br />But he who has the wholesome heart, as lightsome as a feather, <br />Can find a joy in everything, no matter what it is. <br />Golden Miles to Burrawang, when the morn was tender! — <br />How your memory rises up, how it haunts and smiles! <br />Back again, and back it comes — all the early splendour — <br />All your length made beautiful, O you Golden Miles! <br />You that wore the scarlet cloak in the pearly morning, <br />When the sun came up the East, and through the heavens strode <br />Like a prince of great account, cloud and mist-wreath scorning — <br />What was in the heart of you, waiting by the road? <br />Birds of all the bush around were at their greeting matins, <br />Some with little twitterings, and some with loud acclaim; <br />Cloth-of-gold is fine wear, and fine are silks and satins — <br />Finer was the scarlet cloak that wrapped you like a flame. <br />You that wore the scarlet cloak in the early morning, <br />When the leaves were dancing all, and the dewdrops glowed, <br />Like a flower — a flower of flowers, the dewy way adorning — <br />Love was in the heart of you, waiting by the road!<br /><br />Roderic Quinn<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-scarlet-cloak/
