<h2> The Blue Mountains </h2>
<p>Above the ashes straight and tall,<br/>
Through ferns with moisture dripping,<br/>
I climb beneath the sandstone wall,<br/>
My feet on mosses slipping.<br/>
<br/>
Like ramparts round the valley's edge<br/>
The tinted cliffs are standing,<br/>
With many a broken wall and ledge,<br/>
And many a rocky landing.<br/>
<br/>
And round about their rugged feet<br/>
Deep ferny dells are hidden<br/>
In shadowed depths, whence dust and heat<br/>
Are banished and forbidden.<br/>
<br/>
The stream that, crooning to itself,<br/>
Comes down a tireless rover,<br/>
Flows calmly to the rocky shelf,<br/>
And there leaps bravely over.<br/>
<br/>
Now pouring down, now lost in spray<br/>
When mountain breezes sally,<br/>
The water strikes the rock midway,<br/>
And leaps into the valley.<br/>
<br/>
Now in the west the colours change,<br/>
The blue with crimson blending;<br/>
Behind the far Dividing Range,<br/>
The sun is fast descending.<br/>
<br/>
And mellowed day comes o'er the place,<br/>
And softens ragged edges;<br/>
The rising moon's great placid face<br/>
Looks gravely o'er the ledges.<br/></p>
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