Explore "The Daylight is Dying" by Andrew Barton Paterson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The daylight is dying / Away in the west, / The wild birds are flying / In silence to rest; / In leafage and frondage / Where shadows are deep, / They pass to its bondage -- / The kingdom of sleep. / And watched in their sleeping / By stars in the height, / They rest in your keeping, / Oh, wonderful night.
When night doth her glories / Of starshine unfold, / 'Tis then that the stories / Of bush-land are told. / Unnumbered I hold them / In memories bright, / But who could unfold them, / Or read them aright? / Beyond all denials / The stars in their glories / The breeze in the myalls / Are part of these stories. / The waving of grasses, / The song of the river / That sings as it passes / For ever and ever, / The hobble-chains' rattle, / The calling of birds, / The lowing of cattle / Must blend with the words. / Without these, indeed, you / Would find it ere long, / As though I should read you / The words of a song / That lamely would linger / When lacking the rune, / The voice of the singer, / The lilt of the tune.