So old! So hoar! Who knows how old they are --
These crags of Eld, that front the Evening Star?
From silver mists they rear their heads sublime,
Furrowed by miles and tears of ancient Time.
Yet at their feet in veiling foliage set,
Gay bloom the gorse and faint blue violet.
And as we ride, beyond the ferny screen
The bell-bird's note falls clear our words between.
The river winds with many a sinuous turn,
Of dreams in hollows green with moss and fern.
Our horses' hoof-beats, echoing from the walls,
Discordant break the music of the Falls.
Against the granite background gray and cold
Autumn, the artist, paints the poplar gold.
Ah! azure world God makes so fair to see,
I go. Thy beauty stays, unchanged, with me.
First published in The Queenslander, 8 May 1897
Author reference site: Austlit
See also.
These crags of Eld, that front the Evening Star?
From silver mists they rear their heads sublime,
Furrowed by miles and tears of ancient Time.
Yet at their feet in veiling foliage set,
Gay bloom the gorse and faint blue violet.
And as we ride, beyond the ferny screen
The bell-bird's note falls clear our words between.
The river winds with many a sinuous turn,
Of dreams in hollows green with moss and fern.
Our horses' hoof-beats, echoing from the walls,
Discordant break the music of the Falls.
Against the granite background gray and cold
Autumn, the artist, paints the poplar gold.
Ah! azure world God makes so fair to see,
I go. Thy beauty stays, unchanged, with me.
First published in The Queenslander, 8 May 1897
Author reference site: Austlit
See also.
