Evening in the MacDonnells
Look at the rocky range, wallowing in the sun’s glow.
The fierce white sun sinks, regretted by the black crow.
The black crows are calling, forlornly crying out,
For they like not the radiance of evening spread about.
The black crows like not the hues and the hazes
Of the valleys, but the fire where a last peak blazes.
The guttering colours and the desert’s smoky smoulderings
Lead them into darkness jetter than their black wings.
The darkness will come when the colours glide away;
The darkness will come and the darkness will stay,
With points of mocking silver, the stars and the dew,
And the cold bitter winds till day break through.
Now before the stars burn, Evening brings her beauty here
To walk on the rocky range and on the stony plains near.
Evening sucks the venom of the day’s distress,
And all the tortured land takes on new loveliness.
I will stand and watch the beauty of the desert, though the crows
Let me not forget the harshness the long day knows,
The heat that has vanished, the mirage that has gone . . .
I will stand and watch the beauty till night come on.
Rex Ingamells, Forgotten People, F. W. Preece & Sons, Adelaide, 1936, page 40