Vonda Stanley's collection of early Australian bush poems



Her spell enfolds us. We can never thrust

Aside the bonds which hold to us the grey,

Wind haunted mallee; Satyr-like she may

Crush out the blood of life to slake the lust

That burns within her. Circe-wise she must

Fling curses where her lovers kneel to pray,

And souls that worshipped her in youth’s glad day

Are hurled before her in bitter dust.


In vain we leave her in our goading fear

To bathe where Lethe’s darkling waters flow,

‘Twere idle boast to say we could forget.

Her lone wind-music calls, and ever near

Her grim, stark beauty haunts us till we know

In sudden wonder that she claims us yet. 


 Alice M. Lapthorne.


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