<h2> Eurunderee </h2>
<p>There are scenes in the distance where beauty is not,<br/>
On the desolate flats where gaunt appletrees rot.<br/>
Where the brooding old ridge rises up to the breeze<br/>
From his dark lonely gullies of stringy-bark trees,<br/>
There are voice-haunted gaps, ever sullen and strange,<br/>
But Eurunderee lies like a gem in the range.<br/>
<br/>
Still I see in my fancy the dark-green and blue<br/>
Of the box-covered hills where the five-corners grew;<br/>
And the rugged old sheoaks that sighed in the bend<br/>
O'er the lily-decked pools where the dark ridges end,<br/>
And the scrub-covered spurs running down from the Peak<br/>
To the deep grassy banks of Eurunderee Creek.<br/>
<br/>
On the knolls where the vineyards and fruit-gardens are<br/>
There's a beauty that even the drought cannot mar;<br/>
For I noticed it oft, in the days that are lost,<br/>
As I trod on the siding where lingered the frost,<br/>
When the shadows of night from the gullies were gone<br/>
And the hills in the background were flushed by the dawn.<br/>
<br/>
I was there in late years, but there's many a change<br/>
Where the Cudgegong River flows down through the range,<br/>
For the curse of the town with the railroad had come,<br/>
And the goldfields were dead. And the girl and the chum<br/>
And the old home were gone, yet the oaks seemed to speak<br/>
Of the hazy old days on Eurunderee Creek.<br/>
<br/>
And I stood by that creek, ere the sunset grew cold,<br/>
When the leaves of the sheoaks are traced on the gold,<br/>
And I thought of old things, and I thought of old folks,<br/>
Till I sighed in my heart to the sigh of the oaks;<br/>
For the years waste away like the waters that leak<br/>
Through the pebbles and sand of Eurunderee Creek.<br/></p>
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