Above the ashes straight and tall, <br /> Through ferns with moisture dripping, <br />I climb beneath the sandstone wall, <br /> My feet on mosses slipping. <br /> <br />Like ramparts round the valley's edge <br /> The tinted cliffs are standing, <br />With many a broken wall and ledge, <br /> And many a rocky landing. <br /> <br />And round about their rugged feet <br /> Deep ferny dells are hidden <br />In shadowed depths, whence dust and heat <br /> Are banished and forbidden. <br /> <br />The stream that, crooning to itself, <br /> Comes down a tireless rover, <br />Flows calmly to the rocky shelf, <br /> And there leaps bravely over. <br /> <br />Now pouring down, now lost in spray <br /> When mountain breezes sally, <br />The water strikes the rock midway, <br /> And leaps into the valley. <br /> <br />Now in the west the colours change, <br /> The blue with crimson blending; <br />Behind the far Dividing Range, <br /> The sun is fast descending. <br /> <br />And mellowed day comes o'er the place, <br /> And softens ragged edges; <br />The rising moon's great placid face <br /> Looks gravely o'er the ledges.<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-blue-mountains/
