H. W. Stewart

MOUNTAINS and hills in silhouette are drawn—

Blue, on the green horizon’s blanching rim.

A dog barks and a cock crows, far and dim,

Waking the sleeping town to stretch and yawn.

A blue gum, delicate as lace on lawn,

Across a brightening cloud has thrust a limb,

And from the pine-tree’s spire two magpies hymn

The everlasting miracle of dawn.

For a brief space the brazen skies are blest

With loveliness, and beauty on the hills

Is perishable and plaintive as a song,

Heart-faint and far away; and manifest

Healing is in my heart for bodily ills

That made the sleepless night an aeon long.