I have seen snowcapped mountains and pristine fields
adorned with the blush and hues of Heaven;
but I live here on this arid plain
stretched four ways to infinity.
Here there is no beauty
save which is drawn from first light and the rising sun;
from noontide and harmony of crows;
from sundown, soft gloom of dusk,
night, dark, stars, the howl of dingoes,
all sound, all hush; all times dark and day
and all that lives raucous and wild.
Being here I see
the things I see for what they are.
Comments about this poem (The Plain by Patrick Dennis )
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