The Late W. V. Wild, Esq.
SAD FACES came round, and I dreamily said
“Though the harp of my country now slumbers,
Some hand will pass o’er it, in love for the dead,
And attune it to sorrowful numbers!”
But the hopes that I clung to are withering things,
For the days have gone by with a cloud on their wings,
And the touch of a bard is unknown to the strings—
Oh, why art thou silent, Australia?
The leaves of the autumn are scattering fast,
The willows look barren and lonely;
But I dream a sad dream of my friend of the past,
And his form I can dwell upon only!
In the strength of his youth I can see him go by.
There is health on the cheek, and a fire in the eye—
Oh, who would have thought that such beauty could die!
Ah, mourn for thy noblest, Australia!
A strange shadow broods o’er the desolate earth,
And the cypresses tremble and quiver;
But my heart waxeth dark with the thoughts of the worth
That has left us for ever and ever!
A dull cloud creepeth close to the moon,
And the winter winds pass with a shuddering croon—
Oh, why was he snatched from his brothers so soon?
Ah, weep for thy lost one, Australia!
How weary we grow when we turn to reflect
Upon what we have seen and believed in;
When harping on promises hopelessly wrecked,
And the things we have all been deceived in!
When a voice that I loved lingers near to me yet!
And a kind, handsome face which I’ll never forget—
Can I wake to the present and stifle regret—
Can I smother these feelings, Australia?
It is useless to grieve o’er the light that has fled
But the harp of my country still slumbers;
And I thought that some bard in his love for the dead,
Would have thrilled it to sorrowful numbers!
Lo, the hopes that I clung to are withering things
For the days have gone by with a cloud on their wings,
And my hand is too feeble to strike at the strings—
Oh, why art thou silent, Australia?
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Australia
Opportunities are available in all walks of life in australia
So if youre young and if youre healthy
Why not get a boat and come to australia
Australia, the chance of a lifetime
Australia, you get what you work for
Nobody has to be any better than what they want to be
Australia, no class distinction
Australia, no drug addiction
Nobodys got a chip on their shoulder
Well surf like they do in the u.s.a.
Well fly down to sydney for our holiday
On sunny christmas day
Australia, australia
No one hesitates at life or beats around the bush in australia
So if youre young and if youre healthy
Why not get a boat and come to australia
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Everyone walks around with a perpetual smile across their face
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Everyone gets around and nobody can ever get you down
Well surf like they do in the u.s.a.
Well fly down to sydney for our holiday
On sunny christmas day
Australia, australia
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Waratah and Wattle
Though poor and in trouble I wander alone,
With rebel cockade in my hat,
Though friends may desert me, and kindred disown,
My country will never do that!
You may sing of the Shamrock, the Thistle, the rose,
Or the three in a bunch, if you will;
But I know of a country that gathered all those,
And I love the great land where the Waratah grows.
And the Wattle-bough blooms on the hill.
Australia! Australia! so fair to behold-
While the blue sky is arching above;
The stranger should never have need to be told,
That the Wattle-bloom means that her heart is of gold.
And the Waratah's red with her love.
Australia! Australia! most beautiful name,
Most kindly and bountiful land;
I would die every death that might save her from shame,
If a black cloud should rise on the stand;
But whatever the quarrel, whoever her foes,
Let them come! Let them come when they will!
Though the struggle be grim, 'tis Australia that knows
That her children shall fight while the Waratah grows,
And the Wattle blooms out on the hill.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song for Australia
There is a land where summer skies
Are gleaming with a thousand dyes
Blending in witching harmonies,
in harmonies;
and grassy knoll and forest height,
are flushing in the rosy light,
And all above is azure bright -
Australia, Australia, Australia.
There is a land where honey flows
Where laughing corn luxuriant grows;
Land of the myrtle and the rose,
land of the rose.
On hill and plain the clustering vine
Is gushing out with purple wine,
And cups are quaffed to thee and thine -
Australia, Australia, Australia.
There is a land where treasures shine
Deep in the dark unfathomed mine
For worshippers at Mammon's Shrine;
Where gold lies hid, and rubies glean,
And fable wealth no more doth seem
The idle fancy of a dream
Australia, Australia, Australia.
There is a land where homesteads peep
From sunny plain and woodland steep
And love and joy bright vigils keep;
Where the glad voice of childish glee
Is mingling with the melody
Of nature's hidden minstelsy
Australia, Australia, Australia.
There is a land where floating free,
From mountain top to girdling sea,
A proud flag waves exultingly, exultingly
And freedom's sons the banner bear,
No shackled slave can breathe the air;
Fairest of Britain's daughter fair
Australia, Australia, Australia.
poem by Caroline Carleton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Heart of Australia
When the wars of the world seemed ended, and silent the distant drum,
Ten years ago in Australia, I wrote of a war to come:
And I pictured Australians fighting as their fathers fought of old
For the old things, pride or country, for God or the Devil or gold.
And they lounged on the rim of Australia in the peace that had come to last,
And they laughed at my "cavalry charges" for such things belonged to the past;
Then our wise men smiled with indulgence – ere the swift years proved me right –
Saying: "What shall Australia fight for? And whom shall Australia fight?"
I wrote of the unlocked rivers in the days when my heart was full,
And I pleaded for irrigation where they sacrifice all for wool.
I pictured Australia fighting when the coast had been lost and won –
With arsenals west of the mountains and every spur its gun.
And what shall Australia fight for? The reason may yet be found,
When strange shells scatter the wickets and burst on the football ground.
And "Who shall invade Australia?" let the wisdom of ages say
"The friend of a further future – or the ally of yesterday!"
Aye! What must Australia fight for? In the strife that never shall cease,
She must fight for her work unfinished: she must fight for her life and peace,
For the sins of the older nations. She must fight for her own reward.
She has taken the sword in her blindness and shall live or die by the sword.
But the statesman, the churchman, the scholar still peer through their glasses dim
And they see no cloud on the future as they roost on Australia's rim:
Where the farmer works with the lumpers and the drover drives a dray,
And the shearer on Garden Island is shifting a hill to-day.
Had we used the wealth we have squandered and the land that we kept from the plough,
A prosperous Federal City would be over the mountains now,
With farms that sweep to horizons and gardens where plains lay bare,
And the bulk of the population and the Heart of Australia there.
Had we used the time we have wasted and the gold we have thrown away,
The pick of the world's mechanics would be over the range to-day –
In the Valley of Coal and Iron where the breeze from the bush comes down,
And where thousands of makers of all things should be happy in Factory Town.
They droned on the rim of Australia, the wise men who never could learn;
Our substance we sent to the nations, and their shoddy we bought in return.
In the end, shall our soldiers fight naked, no help for them under the sun –
And never a cartridge to stick in the breech of a Brummagem gun?
With the Wars of the World coming near us the wise men are waking to-day.
Hurry out ammunition from England! Mount guns on the cliffs while you may!
And God pardon our sins as a people if Invasion's unmerciful hand
Should strike at the heart of Australia drought-cramped on the verge of the land.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A White Australia
They had a clear policy
For letting people stay
If your face was white you fitted
If not then sent away.
They included on their census
Cattle, sheep and goats
They excluded Aborigines
As incidental folks.
It was a white Australia
An Australia so pure
It's rarely talked about these days
It's seen as immature.
But white Australia lives on
Think of all those refugees
For they are held behind barbed wire
As dangerous detainees.
This side of this Australia
Is something i implore
Everyone around the world
Not just to ignore.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Muse of Australia
Where the pines with the eagles are nestled in rifts,
And the torrent leaps down to the surges,
I have followed her, clambering over the clifts,
By the chasms and moon-haunted verges.
I know she is fair as the angels are fair,
For have I not caught a faint glimpse of her there;
A glimpse of her face and her glittering hair,
And a hand with the Harp of Australia?
I never can reach you, to hear the sweet voice
So full with the music of fountains!
Oh! when will you meet with that soul of your choice,
Who will lead you down here from the mountains?
A lyre-bird lit on a shimmering space;
It dazzled mine eyes and I turned from the place,
And wept in the dark for a glorious face,
And a hand with the Harp of Australia!
Henry Kendall
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Beautiful Land Of Australia
All you on emigration bent,
With home and England discontent,
Come, listen to my sad lament,
All about the bush of Australia.
I once possessed a thousand pounds.
Thinks I—how very grand it sounds
For a man to be farming his own grounds
In the beautiful land of Australia.
Illawarra, Mittagong,
Parramatta, Wollongong.
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia.
Upon the voyage the ship was lost.
In wretched plight I reached the coast,
And was very nigh being made a roast,
By the savages of Australia.
And in the bush I lighted on
A fierce bushranger with his gun,
Who borrowed my garments, every one,
For himself in the bush of Australia.
Illawarra, Mittagong,
Parramatta, Wollongong.
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia.
Sydney town I reached at last,
And now, thinks I, all danger's past,
And I shall make my fortune fast
In this promising land of Australia.
I quickly went with cash in hand,
Upon the map I chose my land.
When I got there 'twas barren sand
In the beautiful land of Australia.
Illawarra, Mittagong,
Parramatta, Wollongong
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia.
Of sheep I got a famous lot.
Some died of hunger, some of rot,
For the devil a dropp of rain they got,
In this flourishing land of Australia.
My convict men were always drunk,
They kept me in a constant funk.
Says I to myself, as to bed I slunk,
How I wish I was out of Australia!
Booligal, Gobarralong,
Emu Flat and Jugiong.
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia.
Of ills, enough I've had you'll own.
And then at last, my woes to crown,
One night my log house was blown down
That settled us all in Australia
And now of home and all bereft,
The horrid spot I quickly left,
Making it over by deed of gift
To the savages of Australia.
Booligal, Gobarralong,
Emu Flat and Jugiong.
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia
I gladly worked my passage home,
And now to England back I've come,
Determined never more to roam,
At least, to the bush of Australia.
And stones upon the road I'll break,
And earn my seven bob a week,
Which is surely better than the freak
Of settling down in Australia.
Currabubula, Bogolong,
Ulladulla, Gerringong.
If you wouldn't become an ourang-outang,
Don't go to the bush of Australia.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Irene
She seems such a nice lady the beautiful Irene
Her hair as dark as raven's wing her countenance serene
She came out from South Africa with her husband and family
And in Australia for her kids she says more opportunity.
Some of her children miss South Africa still homesick so she say
But Australia they may grow to love at least she hopes one day
She emigrated for their sake she hopes they understand
Still young people have been known to yearn for years for their Homeland.
She talks about South Africa her Homeland far away
But she's not sorry that she left and here she plans to stay
When the Springboks played in the World cup final she watched that on T.V.
And with her family she rejoiced at their great victory.
She has a Grecian background but the moment that she speak
You know she is South African she doesn't sound like a Greek,
She came out to Australia just for her children's sake
And I thought that quite brave of her such a sacrifice to make.
Dark haired Irene from Africa so human and so warm
She's not a proud or showy type she has a quiet charm
And though I only spoke with her for a brief while that memory remain
And what's a loss to South Africa must be Australia's gain
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sing Austrailia
I come to Australia as many people do, to see the old koala, hitch a ride on a kangaroo.
To hear somebody call me "Mate" and call somebody "Blue,"
to hear an Aborigine play a didgeridoo.
Some of you came as prisoners two centuries ago,
some of you come as kings and queens your blessing to bestow.
Some of you stand all swelled with pride, some with shattered wings,
but all of us come with open hearts to hear Australia sing.
In the desert, in the city, in the mountains and in the sea.
In the stories and in the people I can hear Australia sing.
Waltzing Matilda, the men of Gallipoli, Clancy of the Overflow and Crocodile Dundee.
The myth of all creation, the teaching of Baiame, the legends of the Dreamtime for all eternity.
And in this celebration, a brief two hundred years,
the cost to build a nation in blood and sweat and tears.
And if we stand divided, divided we shall fall. But if we stand together, we shall conquer all.
In the desert, in the city, in the mountains and in the sea.
In the stories and in the people I can hear Australia sing..
Sing Australia, sing Australia, sing Australia, sing Australia.
In the sails on Sydney Harbour I can hear Australia sing.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Love This Land Australia
I love this Land Australia of gum and wattle tree
This vast and sunlit Continent is home from home for me
And though I come from a distant Land when I have had my day
Than underneath Australian soil where better place to lay.
I love this Land Australia home of the kangaroo
Of echidna and wombat, platypus and cockatoo
Of lorikeet and rosella, koala, possum and emu
And other unusual birds and animals as I've mentioned just a few.
I like Australian people if poor man make good they say
The man he is a battler, good on him anyway,
In Land of wedge tailed eagle there's rooom to spread one's wings
And in the lucky country the battler is a king.
I love this Land Australia it's home from home for me,
Home of the kookaburra and gum and wattle tree
And bell bird and bell magpie who through the Winter sing
A Winter oft times milder than Ireland in the Spring.
I love this Land Australia of sunshine and bird song
And with each passing day my love for this great Country grow more strong
And though I come from a distant Land when I have had my day
Than underneath Australian soil where better place to lay.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Black and White
They fights their fights and they hunt their game,
As they did before the white man came,
Far in the unexplored Outback,
Where still Australia's mostly black.
They little know of white men's laws,
Or of Australia's cherished cause,
Or any of that bag of tricks
Of policies or politics.
Yet, tho' they little dream of it,
Our wild black brothers do their bit;
For while they hanker for a fight
They help to keep Australia white.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Australia With Any
The Nature and rugged beauty of this Southern Land
Is a thing one like me could never understand
A migrant from by old brown hills far away
Of Nature we learn something new every day.
How could one from the Land of the black and gray crow
Anything of the Nature of this Southern Country hope to know
The home of megapodes and marsupials and birds of beauty rare
Australia with any a Land to compare.
Australia the Land of the red and grey roo
Of emu, koala and wombat and many species of cockatoo
Of butcherbird, kookaburra, lyrebird, magpie and the pied currawong
The dark birds 'tis said who have rain in their song.
Of Australia's many beautiful parrots to name just a few
Rosellas, lorikeets and king parrots so lovely to view
The monoterenes egg laying mammals in Australia only found
The platypus and echidna mystery them does surround
The wonders of Nature have never been few
And each day from her we do learn something new
And I from the Land of the black and gray crow
So little of Australia's Nature does know.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In 1975 Australia was producing things like Picnic at Hanging Rock, in other words films that I would consider still some of the finest products to come out of Australia. I think that our quality now is less than it was then.
quote by Ann Macbeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
South Australia
In South Australia I was born
Heave away, Haul away
In South Australia 'round Cape Horn
We're bound for South Australia
Haul away your rolling king
Heave away, Haul away
Haul away oh hear me sing
We're bound for South Australia
As I walked out one morning fair
Heave away, Haul away
'Twas there I met Miss Nancy Blair
We're bound for South Australia
There's just one thing that's on my mind
Heave away, Haul away
That's leaving Nancy Blair behind
We're bound for South Australia
And as we wallop round Cape Horn
Heave away, Haul away
You'll wish to God you've never been born
We're bound for South Australia
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Queer Ways Of Australia
Dick Briggs, a wealthy farmer’s son,
To England lately took a run,
To see his friends, and have some fun,
For he’d been ten years in Australia.
Arrived in England, off he went
To his native village down in Kent—
’Twas there his father drew his rent,
And many happy days he’d spent.
No splendid, fine clothes on had he,
But jumper’n boots up to the knee,
With dirty Sydney ‘cabbage-tree’—
The costume of Australia.
Chorus:
Now when a fellow takes a run
To England for a bit of fun,
He’s sure to ’stonish everyone
With the queer ways of Australia.
Now Dick went home in this array;
His sister came out and did say,
‘No, we don’t want anything today,’
To her brother from Australia.
Cried he, ‘Oh, don’t you know poor Dick?’
They recognized him precious quick;
The ‘old man’ hugged him like a brick.
And there was feasting there that night,
For Richard was a welcome sight,
For each one hailed with great delight
The wanderer from Australia.
The blessed cattle on the farm
Regarded Dick with great alarm;
His swearing acted like a charm
When he gave ’em a ‘touch’ of Australia.
He could talk ‘bullock’ and ‘no flies’,
And when he blessed poor Strawberry’s eyes,
She looked at him with great surprise
As out of her he ‘took a rise’.
‘Fie, fie,’ his mother said one day,
‘What naughty, wicked words you say.’
‘Bless you, mother, that’s the way
We wake ’em up in Australia.’
Dick went to London for a spree,
And got drunk there most gloriously;
He gave them a touch of ‘Coo-oo-ee’
The bush cry of Australia.
He took two ladies to the play,
Both so serene, in dresses gay,
He had champagne brought on a tray
And said, ‘Now girls, come fire away.’
They drank till they could drink no more,
And then they both fell on the floor.
Cried Dick, as he surveyed them o’er,
‘You wouldn’t do for Australia!’
poem by Charles Thatcher
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
People Of Australia
Yeah, people of australia, sing this song
See many faces from many places, yeah
We all live in one country
But we all come from many others you see
United we dearly hold
The principles of equality
And dignity
And sanctity
People of australia
We live in a very, very old place
The aboriginal people have lived here for 40,000 50,000 60,000 years
They didnt sell it to anybody
They didnt give it away for toys
They didnt trade it in for houses up the coast
They had it stolen off of them, they had it nicked off them
People of australia
People of australia
Our continent is immense
It is unique in the world
But it needs our r.e.s.p.e.c.t.
Our devotionality
Our continent, our home it needs wise management
Some wise management
Your wise management
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Old Ireland
FAR hence, amid an isle of wondrous beauty,
Crouching over a grave, an ancient, sorrowful mother,
Once a queen--now lean and tatter'd, seated on the ground,
Her old white hair drooping dishevel'd round her shoulders;
At her feet fallen an unused royal harp,
Long silent--she too long silent--mourning her shrouded hope and
heir;
Of all the earth her heart most full of sorrow, because most full of
love.
Yet a word, ancient mother;
You need crouch there no longer on the cold ground, with forehead
between your knees;
O you need not sit there, veil'd in your old white hair, so
dishevel'd; 10
For know you, the one you mourn is not in that grave;
It was an illusion--the heir, the son you love, was not really dead;
The Lord is not dead--he is risen again, young and strong, in another
country;
Even while you wept there by your fallen harp, by the grave,
What you wept for, was translated, pass'd from the grave,
The winds favor'd, and the sea sail'd it,
And now with rosy and new blood,
Moves to-day in a new country.
poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Dead Friend
I.
Gone, O gentle heart and true,
Friend of hopes foregone,
Hopes and hopeful days with you
Gone?
Days of old that shone
Saw what none shall see anew,
When we gazed thereon.
Soul as clear as sunlit dew,
Why so soon pass on,
Forth from all we loved and knew
Gone?
II.
Friend of many a season fled,
What may sorrow send
Toward thee now from lips that said
'Friend'?
Sighs and songs to blend
Praise with pain uncomforted
Though the praise ascend?
Darkness hides no dearer head:
Why should darkness end
Day so soon, O dear and dead
Friend?
III.
Dear in death, thou hast thy part
Yet in life, to cheer
Hearts that held thy gentle heart
Dear.
Time and chance may sear
Hope with grief, and death may part
Hand from hand's clasp here:
Memory, blind with tears that start,
Sees through every tear
All that made thee, as thou art,
Dear.
IV.
True and tender, single-souled,
What should memory do
Weeping o'er the trust we hold
True?
Known and loved of few,
But of these, though small their fold,
Loved how well were you!
Change, that makes of new things old,
Leaves one old thing new;
Love which promised truth, and told
True.
V.
Kind as heaven, while earth's control
Still had leave to bind
Thee, thy heart was toward man's whole
Kind.
Thee no shadows blind
Now: the change of hours that roll
Leaves thy sleep behind.
Love, that hears thy death-bell toll
Yet, may call to mind
Scarce a soul as thy sweet soul
Kind.
VI.
How should life, O friend, forget
Death, whose guest art thou?
Faith responds to love's regret,
How?
Still, for us that bow
Sorrowing, still, though life be set,
Shines thy bright mild brow.
Yea, though death and thou be met,
Love may find thee now
Still, albeit we know not yet
How.
VII.
Past as music fades, that shone
While its life might last;
As a song-bird's shadow flown
Past!
Death's reverberate blast
Now for music's lord has blown
Whom thy love held fast.
Dead thy king, and void his throne:
Yet for grief at last
Love makes music of his own
Past.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sing Australia
This song appears on four albums, and was first released on the higher ground album, and has also been released on the a portrait, the john denver collection - calypso and the gift you are album
I come to australia as many people do
To see the old koala, hitch a ride on a kangaroo
To hear somebody call me mate and call somebody blue
To hear the aboriginee play a didgeridoo
Some of you came as prisoners two centuries ago
Some of you come as kings and queens your blessing to bestow
Some of you stand all swelled with pride, some with shattered wings
But all of us come with open hearts to hear australia sing
In the desert, in the city
In the mountains and in the sea
In the stories and in the people
I can hear australia sing
Waltzing matilda, the men of galipoli
Clancy of the overflow, crocodile dundee
The myth of all creation, the teaching of baiame
The legends of a dreamtime for all eternity
And in this celebration of a brief two hundred years
The cost to build a nation in blood and sweat and tears
And if we stand divided, divided we will fall
But if we stand together we shall conquer all
In the desert, in the city
In the mountains and in the sea
In the stories and in the people
I can hear australia sing
Sing australia, sing australia, sing australia, sing australia
In the sails on sydney harbour
I can hear australia sing
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
My Land and I
They have eaten their fill at your tables spread,
Like friends since the land was won;
And they rise with a cry of "Australia's dead!"
With the wheeze of "Australia's done!"
Oh, the theme is stale, but they tell the tale
(How the weak old tale will keep!)
Like the crows that croak on a splintered rail,
That have gorged on a rotten sheep.
I would sing a song in your darkest hour
In your darkest hour and mine –
For I see the dawn of your wealth and power,
And I see your bright star shine.
The little men yelp and the little men lie,
And they spread the lies afar;
But we heed them never, my Land and I,
For we know how small they are.
They know you not in a paltry town –
In the streets where great hopes die –
Oh, heart that never a flood could drown,
And never a drought could dry!
Stand forth from the rim where the red sun dips,
Strong son of the land's own son –
With the grin of grit on your drought-chapped lips
And say, is your country done?
Stand forth from the land where the sunset dies,
By the desolate lonely shed,
With the smile of faith in your blighted eyes,
And say, is your country dead?
They see no future, they know no past –
The parasite cur and clown,
Who talk of ruin and death to last
When a man or a land is down.
God sends for answer the rain, the rain,
And away on the western lease,
The limitless plain grows green again,
And the fattening stock increase.
We'll lock your rivers, my land, my land,
Dig lakes on the furthest run –
While down in the corners where houses stand,
They drivel, "Australia's done!"
The parasites dine at your tables spread
(As my enemies did at mine),
And they croak and gurgle, "Australia's dead"
While they guzzle Australian wine.
But we heed them never, my land, my land,
For we know how small they are,
And we see the signs of a future grand,
As we gaze on a rising star.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!