Child or angel, who can tell? (She may child to others be. She is angel unto me.)

"Christmas souvenir, 1893"


An Old Bush Road
Dear old road, wheel-worn and broken,
Winding thro’ the forest green,
Barred with shadow and with sunshine,
Misty vistas drawn between.
Grim, scarred bluegums ranged austerely,
Lifting blackened columns each
To the large, fair fields of azure,
Stretching ever out of reach.

An Anthology of Australian Verse 

foto – mists in december bilambil cottage 2008

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