Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918.
42. The Voice of the Waters
W
Scarce a wild fowl shakes the quiet that the purple boglands keep,
Only God exults in silence over fields no man may reap.
I was bent above, my image mirrored in the fleeting glass,
And a voice from out the water through my being seemed to pass.
Was the glory of thine image trembling over east and west
Not divine enough when mirrored in the morning water’s breast?”
Ere the void was lit with beauty breathed upon by seraphim,
We were cradled there together folded in the peace in Him.
One to shape itself obedient to the fiery words we spoke,
Flame and flood and stars and mountains from the primal waters broke.
Still and blue and vast above me towered aloft the solemn height,
Where the stars like dewdrops glistened on the mountain slope of night.