Sunset On The Cunimbla Valley, Blue Mountains

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I SAT upon a windy mountain height,  
On a huge rock outstanding from the rest;  
The sun had sunk behind a neighboring crest,  
Leaving chill shade; but looking down, my sight  
Beheld the vale still bathed in his warm light
And of the perfect peace of eve possessed,  
No wave upon the forest on its breast  
And all its park-like glades with sunshine bright.  
It put me into mind of the old age  
Of one who leaves ambition’s rocks and peaks
To those inhabited by nobler rage,  
And still existence in life’s valleys seeks;  
His is the peaceful eve; but then one hour  
Of mountain life is worthy his twenty four.

© Douglas Brooke Wheelton Sladen