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4-237 (Original)

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author,male,Streeton, Arthur,24 addressee,male
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Plaint Text :
Private Written
Private Correspondence
Niall, 1998
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4-237.txt — 3 KB

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Here do I sit under a banana tree, all in a garden fair - with orange & scarlet nasturtiums, violets, aloes peach blossom, bright geranium, marguerite, Roses & Everlastings & all these are sleeping, & dreaming with me in the hot noon.
Tuesday morning found my mother Roberts & I on the 'Massilia' - we leave the pier, hand-shakes, kisses, tears, & tender adieu our vessel moves off, Melbourne growing fainter & fonder like a thin line on the horizon with its spires (& tripy Government House very much on the line).
- Long gazing at the receding line of civilization as the good old sun drops low - then again looking east, one sees the brilliant 'Mercury' proudly riding high over the long impressive line of the Dandenong Ranges (the latter like a great pale blue dragon dreaming in the twilight) - and one doesn't feel Smike any more, but Byron instead &
'Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight, Farewell a while to him and thee My native land, ... Good night ...'
On deck again after tea. Wilson's Promontory & the general coast dim. The throb of the giant machinery & the pulse of the mighty ocean gently lifting the good ship a little. 'Smike' lies smoking an Indian (6 a bob,) on a deck chair, blinking at the new moon, which plays hide-and-seek behind the great black funnel, bravely breathing across the 'Milky Way', & with a slight pulsation the firm masts knock across the bright 'Southern Cross'.
9 pm - I'm writing in a room where they're all singing hymns & find it darn hard write at all - 'Oh Yes singing 'Those in peril on the sea' therefore do not so critical.
Let's see where was I in the sun this morning - Oh Yes Thursday morning we enter the heads, slow winding up the harbor, past men-of-war who salute & dip their flags in honor of ourselves & R M 'Massilia' & one feels beastly proud. [105]
'And the chest expands with its madd'ning might - Gods glorious oxygen' Gordon
Then Circular quay with many steamers busy & bright - towering behind em Metropole Customs & Morts, & beautiful Sydney all glowing & oriental - Little steamers puffing hard and skipping over the blue water clouds of smoke, next the steamers whistle & flute in different keys & over all the bright harmony the warm palpitating sky of the Sunny South - Sydney is an artists' city - glorious - Roberts & I go to Mossman's Bay & pull through the lazy green water, & then lunch under the shade in the open air, eggs, meat, cheese, & 2 big bottles of claret grown in Australia - The little Bay seemed all asleep & so very peaceful - Oh Such a rest - Warm balmy air blue orchids & the purple glory of sarsaparilla - A Land of passion-fruit & poetry - In the afternoon down to Coogee - where the great green rollers tumble in like huge heavy cylinders of liquid glass, spreading glory everywhere, & playing a great symphony of thunder on the golden shore, where the lovers sit in safety & watch & murmur, & kiss in the twilight, before they cross the heavy silver sand towards the tram, when the flowing tide comes in.
I'm reading my 'Joaquin Miller' & also a fine book given me by Telemachus 'The Golden Treasury'.