Buffalo Creek
By John Le Gay Brereton
A timid child with heart oppressed
By images of sin,
I slunk into the bush for rest,
And found my fairy kin.
The fire I carried kept me warm:
The friendly air was chill.
The laggards of the lowing storm
Trailed gloom along the hill.
I watched the crawling monsters melt
And saw their shadows wane
As on my satin skin I felt
The fingers of the rain.
The sunlight was a golden beer,
I drank a magic draught;
The sky was clear and, void of fear,
I stood erect and laughed.
And sudden laughter, idly free,
About me trilled and rang,
And love was shed from every tree,
And little bushes sang.
The bay of conscience bloody hound
That tears the world apart
Has never drowned the silent sound
Within my happy heart.