The valley’s full of misty cloud,Its tinted beauty drowning,The Eucalypti roar aloud,The mountain fronts are frowning.
The mist is hanging like a pallFrom many granite ledges,And many a little waterfallStarts o’er the valley’s edges.
The sky is of a leaden grey,Save where the north is surly,The driven daylight speeds away,And night comes o’er us early.
But, love, the rain will pass full soon,Far sooner than my sorrow,And in a golden afternoonThe sun may set to-morrow.
Sources, publication & text notesReference details
Canonical recordPOEM-000071
Copy-textVerses Popular and Humorous (1900), Project Gutenberg ebook 52066; selected copy-text retained exactly; substantive wording and line/stanza layout independently confirmed against SRC-000002 under D-180
While The Billy BoilsSearch