Explore "Old Melbourne Memories" by Rolf Boldrewood on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I see a lone stream, rolling down / Through valleys green, by ranges brown / Of hills that bear no name, / The dawn's full blush in crimson flakes / Is traced on palest blue, as breaks / The morn in Orient flame.
I see -- whence comes that eager gaze? / Why rein the steed, in wild amaze? / The water's hue is gold! / Golden its wavelets foam and glide, / Through tenderest green to ocean-tide / The fairy streamlet rolled.