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Project Gutenberg Australia HomeReturn to Index of Poems
In the east the day is dawning,
Fast recedes the sable awning
Of the night
As we canter from the station
Gaily in anticipation
Of the light.
Briskly on our steeds are leaping
Where the cattle still are sleeping
In the groves;
Here and there are some uprising,
As hoofs clatter ‘long, surprising
Timid doves.
Foggy clouds are slowly drifting
Like white wreaths of smoke uplifting
From the plains,
Where the thuds the sward is dulling,
And our steeds are strongly pulling
On the reins.
Here mammalia file to leeward;
‘Neath their boundings crisp and searwood
Fly and crack;
There a dingo hurries onward
From our horses bearing downward
On his track.
Curlews hide ‘mid fern and thistle,
While the cheery parrots whistle
In the trees;
And, all heedless of our coming,
‘Mong the flowers we hear the humming
Of the bees.
To the bellbird’s notes we listen,
While the dew begins to glisten
On the grass,
As the sun the hills climbs over,
And his rays across the clover
Proudly pass.
High upon the wooded mountains,
Crystal white of tiny fountains
Catch the glance.
Whence the streams thro’ fern that quiver
Onward towards some dreamy river
Play and dance.
With a fragrant breath that pleases
Comes the murmur of the breezes
Soft and low.
While the face of Nature’s smiling,
Pleasant hour of morn beguiling,
On we go.
Round the lake and backward bounding,
‘Till the mountain bells are sounding
Far and dole;
Over flats and broken courses
How our fresh impatient horses
Caracole!
Airy station chimes commingle
With our stirrups clank and jingle
O’er the lea,
And with pleasant, playful banter,
Spurting homeward, end our canter
Merrily.
Edward S. Sorenson, Casino
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