Lake Macquarie History

A September Evening at Lake Macquarie

M.W. 1892



Published in Newcastle Morning Herald & Miners Advocate

Saturday 10 December 1892, page 10


photo: sunset overlake macquarie







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.

M.W.