Douglas Stewart - The Moths lyrics

Such a blaze of snow, such a smoke of sleet, such a fume of moths in the air You'd think a wind of the dusk had swept the blossoming tea-trees bare But the gust that blew the sunlight out and bade the thrush be silent Has left the branches glittering white where the dark stream cuts the granite And still in a whirring hush of wings the bent old tea-tree showers Storm upon storm of snow-white moths from the midst of its cloud of flowers. Bursting and foaming, spinning and gushing, secret above the stream, Nothing is left of the mountains now, nothing is left of time: Only in depths of space and night there thrusts this ragged bough And wheeling around its cloud of flowers the galaxies swarm like snow.