We found one evening, in the scrub, <br />a road the timber-getters made, <br />a winding, dim, mysterious track, <br />and we raced down it, half afraid. <br /> <br />The wild-hop vines grew high aloft, <br />a winter's chill was in the air, <br />and trailing sarsaparilla swung <br />it's purple glory everywhere. <br /> <br />Then, curled within a hollow stump <br />down in a gully dim and deep, <br />we held our breaths with awe to find <br />four dingo puppies fast asleep! <br /> <br />We stroked them, trembling, for we knew <br />that somewhere in the forest dim, <br />there lurked amid the gathering shades <br />the gaunt old mother, fierce and grim. <br /> <br />The dry leaves rustled, back we sped <br />to where the homelight beckoned warm, <br />to supper-time and Mother's smile; <br />and nestling near her safe from harm. <br /> <br />We, thrilling, gazed into the night <br />where twinkling stars rose high and dim, <br />above the darksome scrub, where lurked <br />the dingo mother fierce and grim!<br /><br />Alice Guerin Crist<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/adventure-8/
