Select Poetry.

Otago Witness, Issue 556, 26 July 1862, Page 7

Select Poetry.

BUSH NIGHTFALL. (From the "BaisTOt Times and Jours ai.") The sheep nve r>t re3t iv their quiet fold,* And the shepherd's asleep in his bed, And the kangaroo dogs, both young and old, Around the fire are spread— The Langhing-bird has bid good night,t Whan the sun in gold weutdown, And the birds of the south., with plumage bright To their leafy rest have flown — Tho' now and then a twitter I hear, As if like bright spirits they watched me there.

I stand at the door of my bark-roofed home, A hut in the boundless bush, And watch as the quiet cool night doth come, With its soothing silent hush— The soft winds rustle the forest trees With a murmuring gentle tone, And the Ni^ht-bird aloud for her partner grieves -As tho' she were sad alone — " Ouckoo' J she sings, like the Joy-bird in May, But her notes are sad as they die away. There's a silv'ry light where the moon will rise Brighter— brighter the pale gleams grow— And the trees are dark against her skie«, As their fire stained limbs about they throw § The Curlew greets her with startled cry As she beams on the grassy glade, Paling the watch-fire's ruddy dye, And making the cold stars fade — Beautiful moon — with this gentle scene, Thoughts stream o'er me of times that have been. " Still, and stiller" — the night sounds quell, As the Southern Crcsr sinks low— Now.only the horses' tinkling ball Is heard in the scrub below ; Binding — ringing along as they stray — The only sound around That tells that the "whits man" has found his way To the " black-fellow's" hunting ground— I will sleep and dreim of my native Isle, And tho moon shall be bright — and friends shall smile.

"W. R., Australia.

* I have often been struck at the extreme stillness of sheep in camp — sometimes when watchingin adark night a flock of some G.OOO or 7,000, I hive been scarcely able to persuade myself that they were there, though within twenty or thirty yards of them, so quietly do they rest.

t The Laugliing-bird, ill-naturedly called Laughing Jackass, is almost as sacred with the old colonists as the Ibis was with the Egyptians. Its cry is an unmitigated burst of loud laughter, rather satirical perhaps at times, but side cracking — quite sufficient to exclude from all polite society — and explosive enough to make one suppose that all, the jokes in Punch for the last ten years had suddenly seized on the unfortunate bird at ouco. It is also called tiie Settler's Clock, from its cry being heard just before sunrise and nfter sunset with great regularity. It is really a large species of Kingfisher. X Thrs bird is not a Cuckoo, but a bird peculiar to Australia ; its note, though, is exactly similar, and to a European who is accustomed to associate the cry with all the brightness of a beautiful Spring day, hearing it in the wild bush lands in the dead of night, the contrast is indescribably touciiiisg and melancholy, seeming like the spirit of past thoughts and youthful hopes wailing over their decay. «j There is hardly a tree in the Australian forests that is not more or less touched by the mighty fires, that at times lage in the interior."