(header photographs by Harry Waite 1912-2011)

The Myth of the Sacred Brumby

 

 

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Cox's River

The following verses were written over 60 years ago; the deceased composer was then a resident of the Burragorang Valley .

White Dog

            
        How bright thou flowest
        through many a leafy dell
        Winding, turning, ever sparkling,
        Now in sunshine, now in shade
 
        Far from Medlow's height thou comest
        Heights so hoary, capped with snow.
        From all sides the merry streamlets
        Into thy broad bosom flow.
 
        When the days are bright in summer,
        Soft and cool thy current seems,
        But when winter's angry tempests
        Swell the earth and drench the streams
 
        Then in torrents strong and mighty
        Dashing down thy rocky bed,
        Swift and angry on thou rushes,
        All thy gentle beauty fled.
Mighty river flowing onward,
With thy current strong and bright
Many hours I've spent beside thee,
Some in shadow, some in light
 
Hours of light when close beside me
Was a friend I fancied true,
When that friend proved false & heartless
Hours of shadow came there too.
Cosmo
"Camden News", November 19 1942. Taken from "Gompholobium Gasbag" 1994).

 

 
 
 
I've walked along the White Dog road,
And seen it clothed in divers hues.
I've trudged that trail 'neath monstrous load,
And ambled down to see the views.
 
I've climbed the ridge in blazing sun,
And squelched along 'mid teeming rain.
I've cantered down there on the run,
And mounted up when sol was slain.
 
I've roamed that lane as daylight pales,
And wandered 'round there in the dark.
I've shivered in the wild dog gales,
And shuddered as they howl and bark.
 
I've seen the dogs in sparkling morn,
And felt the bite of winter's frost.
I've watched the sun arise at dawn,
And seen fog form till hills are lost.
 
I've gone down there with fearful heart,
And searched for walkers somewhere strayed.
I've come up again, I've played my part
And sadly helped distressed who prayed.
 
I've trembled as the flooded Cox
And all its waters roared along.
I've laughed above the sparkling rocks
And filled my soul with joyous song.
 
I've felt all the moods of Australia's bush
Upon that winding four mile track.
I'll return there; I'll need no push
To take my pack and wander back.
 
Frank Bendeich
"The Waysider" No. 101 April 1968