Today in the Dandenongs the white mists, rolling through
The gullies and foothills, dissolve and are not built up anew.
See! Donna Buang in the distance blue as a grape is blue.
Closer down in the orchard, the blunt mushrooms unfold,
Spreading their pin umbrellas over the brown mould,
And the gay wings of rosellas flash in the morning gold.
I hear the low-toned gossip and guess at the things they say
As they plunder the scarlet rowans or swing from a hazel spray;
Fruit and seed and berry they gather -- nuts in May.
The Sylvan Dam is a mirror like that which hung on the wall
In Grimm's old fairy story. From dawn to evenfall
She tells the hills, the skies and the trees who is fairest of all.
First published in The Bulletin, 21 May 1947
