Wongan Way/The Breaking of the Drought

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Wongan Way  (1927)  by Lilian Wooster Greaves
The Breaking of the Drought

The Breaking of the Drought.

Morn, and the dust on red wings flying,
Where flowers are dead, and green grass dying;
The land-breeze like a spoilt child crying—
The Wongan Hills are sighing.

Noon, and the storm-wind fiercely dashing
Through bending forest the tall trees lashing;
The lightning’s eyes ’twixt thunders crashing,
Round the Wongan Hills are flashing.

Afternoon—through the creek-beds creeping
Soon rise the wakened waters leaping,
Till everywhere are torrents sweeping—
The Wongan Hills are weeping.

Evening, and cleansed from all defiling,
With playful drops the moments whiling;
Wrapped in the sunset’s robe beguiling.
The Wongan Hills are smiling.