Wongan Way/Wongan Hills in Drought
Wongan Hills in Drought
Sweet Wongan Hills! Oh could I but restore
In smallest measure your great gifts to me—
Could I but smooth your dear brown faces free
From lines of care, and see you smile once more.
I’d bring a giant’s brimming howl of rain
To bathe your burning brows, your dusty hands.
I’d crown and girdle you with flowery bands.
And wrap you round in cloth of gold again.
As when with breaking heart I crept to you
And at your feet poured out my tale forlorn;
While from your quiet strength to me was given
The healing peace that maketh all things new.
You smiled a heartening benison at morn,
You wrapped me in your crimson robe at even.