The Morning Star paled slowly, the Cross hung low to the sea, <br />And down the shadowy reaches the tide came swirling free, <br />The lustrous purple blackness of the soft Australian night, <br />Waned in the gray awakening that heralded the light; <br />Still in the dying darkness, still in the forest dim <br />The pearly dew of the dawning clung to each giant limb, <br />Till the sun came up from ocean, red with the cold sea mist, <br />And smote on the limestone ridges, and the shining tree-tops kissed; <br />Then the fiery Scorpion vanished, the magpie's note was heard, <br />And the wind in the she-oak wavered, and the honeysuckles stirred, <br />The airy golden vapour rose from the river breast, <br />The kingfisher came darting out of his crannied nest, <br />And the bulrushes and reed-beds put off their sallow gray <br />And burnt with cloudy crimson at dawning of the day.<br /><br />James Lister Cuthbertson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-australian-sunrise/
