Kiama

Towards the hills of Jamberoo     Some few fantastic shadows haste,     Uplit with fires     Like castle spires     Outshining through a mirage waste.     Behold, a mournful glory sits     On feathered ferns and woven brakes,     Where sobbing wild like restless child     The gusty breeze of evening wakes!     Methinks I hear on every breath     A lofty tone go passing by,     That whispers Weave,     Though wood winds grieve,     The fadeless blooms of Poesy!     A spirit hand has been abroad     An evil hand to pluck the flowers     A world of wealth,     And blooming health     Has gone from fragrant seaside bowers.     The twilight waxeth dim and dark,     The sad waves mutter sounds of woe,     But the evergreen retains its sheen,     And happy hearts exist below;     But pleasure sparkles on the sward,     And voices utter words of bliss,     And while my bride     Sits by my side,     Oh, wheres the scene surpassing this?     Kiama slumbers, robed with mist,     All glittering in the dewy light     That, brooding oer     The shingly shore,     Lies resting in the arms of Night;     And foam-flecked crags with surges chill,     And rocks embraced of cold-lipped spray,     Are moaning loud where billows crowd     In angry numbers up the bay.     The holy stars come looking down     On windy heights and swarthy strand,     And Life and Love     The cliffs above     Are sitting fondly hand in hand.     I hear a music inwardly,     That floods my soul with thoughts of joy;     Within my heart     Emotions start     That Time may still but neer destroy.     An ancient Spring revives itself,     And days which made the past divine;     And rich warm gleams from golden dreams,     All glorious in their summer shine;     And songs of half forgotten hours,     And many a sweet melodious strain,     Which still shall rise     Beneath the skies     When all things else have died again.     A white sail glimmers out at sea     A vessel walking in her sleep;     Some Power goes past     That bends the mast,     While frighted waves to leeward leap.     The moonshine veils the naked sand     And ripples upward with the tide,     As underground there rolls a sound     From where the caverned waters glide.     A face that bears affections glow,     The soul that speaks from gentle eyes,     And joy which slips     From loving lips     Have made this spot my Paradise!