We found one evening, in the scrub,a road the timber-getters made,a winding, dim, mysterious track,and we raced down it, half afraid.
The wild-hop vines grew high aloft,a winter’s chill was in the air,and trailing sarsaparilla swungit’s purple glory everywhere.
Then, curled within a hollow stumpdown in a gully dim and deep,we held our breaths with awe to findfour dingo puppies fast asleep!
We stroked them, trembling, for we knewthat somewhere in the forest dim,there lurked amid the gathering shadesthe gaunt old mother, fierce and grim.
The dry leaves rustled, back we spedto where the homelight beckoned warm,to supper-time and Mother’s smile;and nestling near her safe from harm.
We, thrilling, gazed into the nightwhere twinkling stars rose high and dim,above the darksome scrub, where lurkedthe dingo mother fierce and grim!
ALICE…
