The sky is overcast. The rain,
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.