Dorothea Mackellar


           At the dawning of the day,
            On the road to Gunnedah,
        When the sky is pink and grey
            As the wings of a wild galah,
          And the last night-shadow ebbs
        From the trees like a falling tide,
          And the dew-hung spiderwebs
On the grass-blades spread far and wide -
          Each sharp spike loaded well,
    Bent down low with the heavy dew -
                 Wait the daily miracle
       When the world is all made anew:
         When the sun's rim lifts beyond
        The horizon turned crystal-white,
                 And a sea of diamond
         Is the plain to the dazzled sight. 

             At the dawning of the day,
            To my happiness thus it fell:
           That 1 went the common way,
              And 1 witnessed a miracle.