At the dawning of the day,
On the road to Gunnedah,
When the sky is pink and grey
As the wings of a wild galah,
And the last night-shadow ebbs
From the trees like a falling tide,
And the dew-hung spiderwebs
On the grass-blades spread far and wide -
Each sharp spike loaded well,
Bent down low with the heavy dew -
Wait the daily miracle
When the world is all made anew:
When the sun's rim lifts beyond
The horizon turned crystal-white,
And a sea of diamond
Is the plain to the dazzled sight.
At the dawning of the day,
To my happiness thus it fell:
That 1 went the common way,
And 1 witnessed a miracle.
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Comments
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What a poem! I love the humbleness of it. I love the sense of wonder at the sunrise. I like the lines "And the last night-shadow ebbs/
From the trees like a falling tide" , particularly the way she stretches ebbs with tide: the whole idea is developed. I'm going to have to look up a galah on the internet and see what it looks like. -
From guest branka zdrina (contact)
i love this poem it rhymes and when you read it it feels like you're in dawn. -
Went to school at Gunnedah, boarded at St. Mary's Convent for the five years of High School and this is where I developed a love for Dorothea Mackeller's Poetry.
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