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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509147" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Noon On The Barrier Ranges</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE saltbush steeped in drowsy stillness lies,<br>The mulga seems to swoon,<br>A hawk hangs poised within the burning skies,<br>And it is noon.<br>The river-gums, their leaf-pores closed, distil<br>No fresh and cooling breath;<br>I stand upon an old hard-bitten hill,<br>Wide plains beneath.<br>Here stood tall mountains when the world was young,<br>Their peaks uplifted high;<br>Here was the song of many waters sung<br>In days gone by.<br>The monarch Change, whose will no power withstands<br>Vast lord of might<br>At work by night and day, with tireless hands<br>Planed down their height.<br>With such to see, and seeing ponder on,<br>Such mighty ruin wrought,<br>Why should we wonder at proud Babylon<br>Brought down to nought?<br>Be not amazed, though princes be displaced<br>And kingdoms overcast;<br>Are empires more than mountains, basalt-based,<br>That they should last?<br>A sense of things unreal, seen in dream,<br>Is over plain and heights —<br>The time-worn rocks, the crumbled earth, the gleam<br>Of mirage lights;<br>The horseman riding with a slackened rein<br>Alone, a silent man;<br>The weird, dust-sprites that whirl across the plain<br>A little span;<br>The earth-hued lizard, on the sun-baked rock<br>Stretched out in stirless sleep;<br>The far-off drover and his dusty flock<br>Of travelling sheep;<br>The hidden birds that break the hush, and call,<br>And sink again to rest,<br>The dust-storm, hanging, like a crimson shawl,<br>Within the west;<br>The white quartz glittering on the umber track,<br>The claypans cracked and bare;<br>The poised hawk, hanging like a menace black<br>In middle air;<br>The wonder of the spacious plain and sky,<br>The splendour of it all;<br>The all that is not I — so wide, so high,<br>And I so small!<br>The sun swings on, and up the western verge<br>The great shawl-cloud spreads wide,<br>Till sky and plain in oneness meet and merge,<br>Fierce-lit, red-dyed.<br>A wind, hell-hot and surged with fury, whips<br>The trees upon its path,<br>And all is sudden turmoil and eclipse,<br>And cries of wrath.<br>A choking darkness draws across the sun<br>And clouds his splendour o'er,<br>And though but half his pilgrimage be done,<br>'Tis noon no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Roderic+Quinn">Roderic Quinn</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509147" data-title="Noon On The Barrier Ranges de Roderic Quinn" data-description="THE saltbush steeped in drowsy stillness lies,
The mulga seems to swoon,
A hawk hangs poised within the burning skies,
And it is noon.
The river-gums, their leaf-pores closed, distil
No fresh and cooling breath;
I stand upon an old hard-bitten hil..."></div>
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