The poem reads:
They'll not find him in the hills
Above the slow fern gully;
He's gone to earth like a sunken creek
In an unknown vally;
Nor find the fur on the bent thorn
Nor hear him moan at the raw moon;
He stalks down the valleys of the years
With his old love, his old pain
They'll not find him in the hills;
He's gone to earth in an unknown vally
With legends of coal and time in stone,
With the sly fern, with the gully.
Vivian Smith
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