Skyline Riders and Other Verses

Above Lavender Bay

Henry Lawson

’TIS glorious morning everywhere
    Save where the alleys lie—
I see the fleecy steam jets bid
    “Good morning” to the sky.
The gullies of the waratah
    Are near, with fall and pool,
And by the shadowed western rocks
    The bays are fresh and cool.

To “points” that hint of Italy—
    Of Italy and Spain—
I see the busy ferry boats
    Come nosing round again.
To the toy station down below
    I see the toy trains run—
(I wonder when those ferry boats
    Will get their business done?)

Above the Bay called Lavender
    This bard is domiciled,
Where up through rich, dark greenery
    The red-tiled roofs are piled—
(At least some are—I hope that soon
    They all shall be red-tiled)—
A moonlight night in middle-age
    That makes one feel a child.

Close over, to the nearer left—
    That feels the ocean breeze—
A full moon in a dim blue sky
    A church spire and dark trees.
And, further right, the harsher heights
    Of Mosman, Double Bay,
And Rose Bay, with their scattered lights,
    Have softened with the day.

And fair across to where we know
    The shelving sea cliffs are—
The lighthouse, with a still faint glow,
    Beneath a twinkling star.
Across the harbour from the right,
    And fairly in a line,
The Clock-tower on the City Hall,
    A ship-mast and a pine.

The pale and bright, yet dusky blue,
    And crossed by fleecy bars,
Flings out the brilliant city lights,
    The moonlight and the stars—
And like a transformation scene,
    On sheet glass down below,
The fairy-lighted ferry boats
    Are gliding to and fro.

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