Deep in the meadow grass <br />Easy stand the cattle, <br />Lightly lock the young bulls <br />In a mimic battle, <br />Pride gathers with each shock, <br />Every break and rally - <br />That’s where the Pejar runs, <br /> <br />Runs like a slip of silver through the valley. <br />Softly as a thrush sings <br />In the morning hushes, <br />Softly sing the waters <br />Round the reedy rushes, <br />Softly at the sand-bar, <br />Softly at the sally - <br />That’s where the Pejar runs, <br />Runs like a slip of silver through the valley. <br /> <br />Where awakes the morning <br />To dapple all the hills, <br />Where dewdrop, shaken, <br />Pendant slides and spills, <br />Where the golden bugles <br />Sunset calls reveille - <br />That’s where the Pejar runs, <br />Runs like a slip of silver through the valley. <br /> <br />Where the springtime blossoms <br />Like a mellow laughter, <br />Over all the grasses, <br />Over ridge and rafter, <br />Over all the tree-tops, <br />Down each ferny valley - <br />That’s where the Pejar runs, <br /> <br />Runs like a slip of silver through the valley. <br />Where the Pejar rises <br />Springs the Wollondilly, <br />Twinned upon the mountains <br />Babbling brook and ghyllie; <br /> <br />Where the bridge-heads rumble <br />Side by side they dally - <br />Out where the Pejar runs, <br />Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.<br /><br />Dame Mary Gilmore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pejar-creek/
