(To see the painting click here)
Beneath a cloudy back-lit sky
There is a burning forest fire.
Burning, burning, ever turning
But though it burns it’s ne’er consumed
Here in this auburn autumn scene
Beneath the ashy cloudy sky,
The red man sits and smokes and smiles,
And lives a peaceful, natural life.
But o’er the hill there comes a sound:
Brown bulls beating out a bold broken line.
The settler comes, with axe and fire,
To clear the burning forest away.
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