Najmin Mortuza

Ten miles down Patawolonga creek river ,
A pool of water lies,
And all the year it mirrors
The changes in the skies.
Within that pool’s broad bosom
Is room for all the stars;
It’s bed of sand has drifted
o’er countless rocky bars.

Around the lower edges
There waves a bed of reeds,
Where water- rats are hidden
And where the wild- duck breeds ;
And grassy slopes rise gently
To ridges long and low,
Where groves of wattle flourish
And native bluebells grow.

Beneath the granite ridges
The eye may just discern
Where rocky creek emerges
From deep green banks of fern;
And standing tall between them,
The drooping sheoaks cool
The hard, blue tinted waters
Before they reach the pool

Ten miles down Patawolonga creek river ,
One Sunday afternoon,
I rode with Mary Campbell
To that broad, bright lagoon;
We left our horses grazing
Till shadow climbed the park,
And strolled beneath the sheoaks
In the banks of patawolonga creek.

Then home along the river
That night we rode a race ,
And the moon light lent a glory
To marry Campbells face ;
I played for my future
All through that moon light ride,
Until our wery horses
Drew closer side by side .

Now still down patawolonga river
The grassy sheoaks sigh;
The waterholes still mirror
The picture in the sky;
The golden sand is drifting
Across the rocky bars;
And over all for ever
Go sun and moon and stars.

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