Wongan Way/Wongan Way II
The Tree of Time his leafy boughs outspread;
The migrant months, like birds had built their nests,
And reared their broods of singing days that fled
Too soon on flashing wings with gleaming breasts.
But some, their mournful wailings uttering,
Were dull of feather and of languid flight;
And, gloom to gloom, at last on weary wing
They vanished o’er the hueless sea of night.
But best and brightest were the mystery" days
Of closely folded wing and sombre plume;
Till, challenged by a wind from forest ways.
Full laden with the scent of wattle-bloom.
The wakened birds an answering challenge cried—
"Away! away!" they sang; and soared and wheeled;
While on expanded wing and flashing side
Splendours of hidden colours shone revealed.
Such was the day that brought me once again
To Wongan.—Birds and days are wondrous things.
We know not what brown bird, what dawn of pain
Hides red and gold beneath its folded wings.