Far down the valley of the Acheron Rustle broad leaves and slender; little trees, And trees immeasurably old and wan, Make home for all the bush-folk and the bees. Birds have flown from the backlands and have told Songs and adventures; lowing near my gate The bullocks, shouldering through the wattle-gold, Have brought the wilderness to where I wait. The sun will flow across the paddocks soon Putting the grey furze shadows softly down For carpets where white lambs will lie at noon And cattle drowse on pastures yet ungrown. The gums with outstretched arms welcome the light Whose falling billows break the clouds that lurch Against their hills, and in most mild affright Rustles its little leaves the dainty birch. But this is not enough; my heart grows fond; I'll go where Beauty weaves intenser spells Beyond the noise of axes and beyond The mellow clamour of the cattle-bells. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WOODSMOKE AT 70 by HAYDEN CARRUTH ABOVE HALF MOON by JAMES GALVIN AFTER VERLAINE by ANSELM HOLLO BEARING LEAVES AGAIN by DAVID IGNATOW HEGIRA by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON HOUSE WITH THE MARBLE STEPS by AMY LOWELL |