Comes driving up across the plain;
But yonder on Bali heights
There hangs a haze of golden lights.
Ah! Gleams of gold among the hills,
I pray that, in the midst of ills
When life seems desolate and grey,
I still may see you far away.
W R Foran 18.11.1925 Written on the deck of the Steam Ship Houtman on leaving Bali after his first visit.
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