by E.M. England
Slowly the hours, with their star-dusted hair,
Trail past the red-faced and broad-bosomed Moon,
There is a stealthy glamour everywhere,
A bright effulgence, like a second noon;
Drugged with the silence and the pure, sweet air,
Blue lilies sleep upon the broad lagoon.
Drowsing night-long, fat cattle in the shade,
(The slate-grey shade of daytime-dusty trees).
Loll in the grass – tall, sunburnt, and wind-swayed
That ripples like lake-waters to my knees;
Curlews' shrill calling down the dim arcade
Of moon-flecked scrubland, floats upon the breeze.
The black strand of the creek winds o'er the plain-
A velvet bow in tresses long grown grey;
I clutch at thought that still eludes my brain,
I strive for speech – and find no words to say!
For so intense a beauty breathes of Pain,
Like wistful music heard from far away!
I know there are green English fields that sleep
In quiet beauty thro' the long twilight,
And scented Eastern darkness e'er will keep
A jewelled snare for passion and delight,
But glory and romance and magic leap
Out of the turquoise bowl of Queensland night!
E. M. England
Compare this poem to 'A Queensland Summer Night' written in 1883