THE CREEK IN THE SCRUB
At the edge of the sea the song I seek
Is the husky voice of a little creek.
In the heart of a tangled way it hides,
With a thread of honey amid its tides.
To the tumbled browns of its shadowed bed,
Like golden hairs on a pillow spread,
Comes a trickling light that a way will burn
Through the lace-fringed leaf of the shielding fern;
Where the touch of fancy in memory gropes
Is a slim liana, swaying ropes,
All ribboned green where it clasps the tree,
And the whip-bird lashes the mystery.
The cat-bird echoes an elfin jest
Where blown leaves eddy to earth's cool breast,
To blaze the quartz-white figs between
In lacquer red and enamel green.
Is the husky voice of a little creek.
In the heart of a tangled way it hides,
With a thread of honey amid its tides.
To the tumbled browns of its shadowed bed,
Like golden hairs on a pillow spread,
Comes a trickling light that a way will burn
Through the lace-fringed leaf of the shielding fern;
Where the touch of fancy in memory gropes
Is a slim liana, swaying ropes,
All ribboned green where it clasps the tree,
And the whip-bird lashes the mystery.
The cat-bird echoes an elfin jest
Where blown leaves eddy to earth's cool breast,
To blaze the quartz-white figs between
In lacquer red and enamel green.
Pan pipes unseen as the songsters come
To feast in the shade of the flooded gum,
Where a darting wing and a beak can find
Brown chestnuts glossy in tawny rind.
While chattering finches and magpies sleek
Have swelled the chant of the little creek.
To feast in the shade of the flooded gum,
Where a darting wing and a beak can find
Brown chestnuts glossy in tawny rind.
While chattering finches and magpies sleek
Have swelled the chant of the little creek.
Oh, I know what the moon is on the sea
And the brilliant stars in their witchery!
And the brilliant stars in their witchery!
