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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374773" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Men of Australia</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Men of all the lands Australian from the Gulf to Derwent River,<br> From the Heads of Sydney Harbour to the waters of the West,<br>There’s a spirit loudly calling where the saplings dip and quiver,<br> Where the city crowds are thronging, and the range uplifts its crest!<br>Do ye feel the holy fervour of a new-born exultation?<br> For the task the Lord has set us is a trust of noblest pride—<br>We are named to march unblooded to the winning of a nation,<br> And to crown her with a glory that may evermore abide. <br>Have ye looked to great old nations, have ye wondered at their making,<br> Seen their fair and gracious cities, gemmed with palaces of light,<br>Felt the pulse of mighty engines beating ever, never slaking,<br> Like the sandalled feet of Progress moving onward in the night?<br>Can ye stand on some high headland when the drowsy day is fading,<br> And in dreamlike fancy see a merchant fleet upon the seas,<br>See the pinioned ships majestic ’gainst the purple even sailing<br> And the busy steamers racing down to half a thousand quays? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Have ye dreamed of this or seen of this, and feel ye no elation<br> O’er the most heroic duty that a free-born people knows?<br>To the chain of kindred nations ours to link another nation,<br> Ours to stay and build and bless her for a future great as those!<br>Cold and sordid hearts may linger still to bargain over trifles,<br> But the big-souled men have only hate for huckstering and sloth;<br>These would batter down division, tear away the bonds that stifle,<br> And would free our dear Australia for the larger, nobler growth. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bushmen, roaming on the ridges, tracking “colours” to their sources,<br> Swinging axes by the rivers where the millsaws rend and shriek<br>Smoking thoughtful pipes, or dreaming on your slow, untroubled horses,<br> While the lazy cattle feed along the track or ford the creek,<br>Ye have known our country’s moods in all her wild and desert places,<br> Ye have felt the sweet, strange promptings that her solitudes inspire;<br>To have breathed the spirit of her is to love her—turn your faces,<br> Ride like lovers when the day dawns, ride to serve her, son and sire! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Miners in the dripping workings, farmers, pioneers who settle<br> On the bush lands, city workers of the benches and the marts,<br>Swart mechanics at the forges, beating out the glowing metal,<br> Thinkers, planners, if ye feel the love of country stir your hearts,<br>Help to write the bravest chapter of a fair young nation’s story<br> Great she’ll be as Europe’s greatest, more magnificent in truth!<br>That our children’s children standing in the rose light of her glory<br> May all honour us who loved her, and who crowned her in her youth!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edward+George+Dyson">Edward George Dyson</a><div class=q>
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 From the Heads of Sydney Harbour to the waters of the West,
There’s a spirit loudly calling where the saplings dip and quiver,
 Where the city crowds are thronging, and the range u..."></div>
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