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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=427776" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lyrebirds</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=427776" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Over the west side of the mountain, <br>that’s lyrebird country. <br>I could go down there, they say, in the early morning, <br>and I’d see them, I’d hear them. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=427776" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Ten years, and I have never gone. <br>I’ll never go. <br>I’ll never see the lyrebirds - <br>the few, the shy, the fabulous, <br>the dying poets. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=427776" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I should see them, if I lay there in the dew: <br>first a single movement <br>like a waterdrop falling, then stillness, <br>then a brown head, brown eyes, <br>a splendid bird, bearing <br>like a crest the symbol of his art, <br>the high symmetrical shape of the perfect lyre. <br>I should hear that master practising his art. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=427776" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">No, I have never gone. <br>Some things ought to be left secret, alone; <br>some things – birds like walking fables – <br>ought to inhabit nowhere but the reverence of the <br>heart.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Judith+Wright">Judith Wright</a></strong></div>

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