Explore "A May Night on the Mountains" by Henry Lawson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
'Tis a wonderful time when these hours begin, / These long ‘small hours' of night, / When grass is crisp, and the air is thin, / And the stars come close and bright. / The moon hangs caught in a silvery veil, / From clouds of a steely grey, / And the hard, cold blue of the sky grows pale / In the wonderful Milky Way.
There is something wrong with this star of ours, / A mortal plank unsound, / That cannot be charged to the mighty powers / Who guide the stars around. / Though man is higher than bird or beast, / Though wisdom is still his boast, / He surely resembles Nature least, / And the things that vex her most.