I will rise and step forth, wander down to Lake Clarity ,
And a tiny pathway take, of childhood-placed pebbles made:
Twelve gnomes will I have there, and by the bank, cider or tea,
Then play truant with old friends in deep pool-side shade.
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And I shall invite you there, sixty years in a trice, passing slow ...
Dripping from oars of morning's canoe, where kingfishers sing;
There ten o'clock's a-shimmer, and noon a pleasant glow,
And twilight's blessed with Kurrawongs on wing.
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I will rise and step forth, for voices by night or by day
Call back lake water, lapping low, dancing to days of yore;
While I survey this high range, under skies of grey,
I still hear its deep blue splash for my soul, my core.
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