Classic Poem

In a cavern consecrated
To the God they would not name,
Sat the Chiefs of the " Old People " ,
Dumb with eye and heart aflame.
Waiting for the spirit Baa Mee
At the gates of shining cryst,
As through holy echoes came he,
White as moonlight mountain mist.
To the white cave home of radium
Came he from the " walk " beyond,
To the stalactitic stadium,
Bearer of the sacred wand:
Mystic tokens for the old men,
Chieftains of the ancient rite
Of the Boora, and the Yoo Lahn,
Savage tests of neophyte.
To them gave he words of warning
From the old unwritten law,
Of the rite at manhood's dawning
And the mys'tries of the Bor,
That would make them brave in darkness,
Deft in hunting and in war,
Stolid 'neath the lightning's starkness,
Still beneath the shooting star;
Strong to battle with the Wee-ree,
Fearless where the dead man lies,
And to make them all Boo-ji-ree,
Strong and mighty Carrah-dys.
Then he gave the sires of Gum-Boak,
Antidote for adder's fang,
And the secret of the she-oak,
And the mystic boomerang,
Joined their singing in the dawning,
Sweet as black swan's dying song,
But the sunrise in the morning,
Saw him not the tribes among.
Went he by the soundless river,
Where the white stalagmite grows
Subterranean, flowing ever,
Whence or whither no man knows.