On The Range (Barcroft Henry Boake Poems)
On Nungar the mists of the morning hung low,The beetle-browed hills brooded silent and black,Not yet warmed to life by ...
On Nungar the mists of the morning hung low,The beetle-browed hills brooded silent and black,Not yet warmed to life by ...
The first flush of grey light, the herald of daylight,Is dimly outlining the musterer's camp,Where over the sleeping, the stealthily ...
The snow lies deep on hill and dale,In rocky gulch and grassy vale,The tiny, trickling, tumbling fallsAre frozen 'twixt their ...
She was born in the season of fire, When a mantle of murkiness lay On the front of the crimson ...
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