Sydney In The Spring.


To D. O’R.

A song! a song! with a chorus strong for the sweet September days
When Australia smiles with a lover’s wiles in the Sun’s adoring rays;
When the low coast sways in a purple haze to the Ocean’s nursing croon,
And the beaches white are hushed and bright in the dreamy afternoon.

Ah, now we hear the heart of the year! for the young trees leap and glow,
And nesting birds speak hot love-words as they flit from a dancing bough;
And he who lists through dawning mists to the joy of Mother Earth
May feel the thrill of her bosom still in the old eternal birth.

But who shall scorn the bliss o’ the morn by the shining cliffs and bays
Where the harbour’s view, like a jewel blue, enchants the lingering gaze:
And who shall grieve in the glamour of eve when the city’s dusky ring
Is starred with lights for the passionate nights of Sydney in the Spring.

Then forth, hie forth to the call of the Earth that marries the call of the blood,
For the Bush is a bower of leaf and flower, and the new sap mounts in a flood;
And there’s none so poor who will follow the lure but he shall be a king
On a scented throne of the wattle blown for Sydney in the Spring.

And the lass whose eyes have the dew of the skies, O, she shall be his queen,
And the twain shall sport in a golden court ‘neath a roof of chequered green;
For this is the song the ages long by the whole wide world obeyed,
That lovers unite in the Spring’s delight, and ever a man with a maid.

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