A September Evening at Lake Macquarie
Published in Newcastle Morning Herald & Miners Advocate
Saturday 10 December 1892, page 10
Photograph from our collection: Sunset over Lake Macquarie
Along the west a crimson glory shines,
And lends the east a soft and rosy hue,
And o'er the lakes pure bosom spreads a glow
Of light and warmth, and colours delicate.
Bright golden clouds hang o'er and calmly view
Their beauteous forms within the crystal depths;
While some belated boat, with snow-white sail,
Glides slowly by, as fearful to disturb
The shining water's sweet and tranquil calm,
And mar the images reflected there.
The birds among the trees pour out their songs,
As fresh as though that light were opening morn,
And they, all unfatigued, with fluttering wings,
And gladsome voice, would hail its voice anew
Dark flocks of swans, that all day long have fed
Among the weed, within the quiet bay,
Now, gliding to and fro, and uttering notes
Like softest bugle-sounds, prepare for flight
To some more lonely haunt, ere nights approach;
And, mingling with their cries, soft steals the sound
Of cattle bells, from Wangi's distant shore.
But list, a merry laugh, a snatch of song,
And see you boat, with maidens young and gay,
Whom some proud youth, right willingly, has rowed
From Belmont's shore, to that lone garden fair
Whose lofty orange trees are seen afar,
With luscious fruit hanging their leaves among
And glittering in the sun like balls of gold.
Bright, happy girls; along whose lightsome way
No sorrows yet have cast their darkening shade,
How oft, in days when life has sterner grown,
And cares have touched those hearts so joyous now,
Will this fair scene with all its wondrous calm,
And beauties rare, soft-tinged with sunset glow,
Return all fair and bright on memory's wing,
As some fair picture, seen in happier days.
Now faint, and fainter grows the western glow,
Its soft reflection leaves the darkening lake,
The swans have taken their well-ordered flight,
And on the air their cries have died away.
The night draws slowly near, and waining day
Doth mutely pray, with soft appealing gaze
That those dark shades will gently rest upon
The budding trees now hastening to appear
In foliage new, as greeting to the Spring;
And fold from harm the tender opening flowers
That her fair beams have wakened unto me;
And soothe the fears of tiny, helpless birds,
Still lingering near their half-completed nests.
And thus, beseeching, slowly fades away
Behind the hills, the day's last dying beam,
Leaving, all wet with dew, each scented flower
And verdant bank, and bush, and towering tree;
Like some fair mother fond, who, dying, bathes
The faces of her children with her tears.
Night closes in, and countless shining stars
Brood o'er that lovely spot with tender gaze,
And in the lake, where late the sunset clouds
Their golden beauty viewed, reflected lie;
While trees and garden, grassy banks and flowers
All undisturbed in peaceful slumber rest.
This work by Lake Macquarie City Library is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License