At Hawea


circa 1967


I wonder if these hills will feel the thunder of flying hooves,

or tower over smooth white walls, and a cluster of crimson rooves

Shall beacon after beacon on these dark mountains glow,

and answering fires waken in the waters far below


For I have seen the standing stones like tall captains alone

Across dry grass and blackened briar

the dead winds leap like all desire

and forests like armies moan


There comes no shout of steel and song,

no banner against the brown

Without a lance to catch the light,

In lonely splendour on the height,

the silent sun goes down










One Response to At Hawea

  1. Richard L. Hewitt says:

    The poem gives me thought as I look down on the Lake below.
    Question: Have you lived at Hawea?.
    Was your father a school teacher? At Hawea Flat?

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