Francis Duggan


Near The Mouth Of Powlett River - Poem by Francis Duggan

Near the mouth of Powlett river one can hear the surf waves roll
The peace and beauty of this quiet place is nourishment to the soul
Close to an Earthly Utopia few with that could disagree
Where the dark waters of the Powlett crawl quietly to the sea.

This old place old and beautiful as old as father time
Has been sketched by well known artists and inspired the poets to rhyme
I could live and be quite happy until my dying day
Where the Powlett from the high Country towards the sea inches it's way.

On the wide beach in the sunshine a small flock of silver gulls their feathers preen
And amongst them a few crested terns birds that are not often seen
And the wattlebirds on the banksias bordering the caravan park
In their constant search for nectar they call all day till dark.

Near the mouth of Powlett river on this sunny Winter's day
On a blackwood tree the magpie in his cloak of dark and gray
Is fluting on a high branch his most familiar song
Near to where the dark waters of the Powlett to the ocean crawls along.

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, April 12, 2008



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