The Hills are Blue by Christine Bonwick

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All the hills are blue to-day, cool and blue and bracing,
Tonic for your weary heart, balm for all your ills.
We who knew them long ago find our feet retracing
Winding paths of memory, all among the hills.
Where the blackwnods fringe the creek, there our feet are straying;
Where the fragrant sassafras flaunts its tender green,
There the little tumbling streams happy tunes are playing--
How we hear their melodies, o'er the years between!

All the hills are blue to-day, dear and blue and tender;
Help they hold for those who seek strength or sympathy.
Where the mountain breezes stir shaded leaves and slender
Breathe the messages of hope from each murm'ring tree.
Paths that twist and roads that wind yield at every turning
Glimpses of the bushland birds, snatches of their song;
Weary folk, and woe-begone, worn with years of yearning,
All the hills are blue to-day -- won't you come along?

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 22 December 1928

Author: Christine Bonwick (1893[?]-1984) trained as a nurse at Royal Melbourne Hospital in 1913, and later worked in in various Save the Children's Camps.  Beyond this nothing is known about this author.

Author reference site: Austlit

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on December 22, 2011 7:16 AM.

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