In the quiet noonday heat
   Creeping high aloft
Nimbly, on prehensile feet,
   Calling very soft;
Else, among the seeding grass,
   Feeding by a tree
Where the soft cloud shadows pass
   Not more silently.

Now, with shrill and sudden din,
   Swift, as danger comes,
Flasing as a javelin
   Past the sunlit gums;
Rocketing thro' inlaced limbs,
   A living, darting flame;
While, above, the brown hawk swims,
   Avid for his game.

Forest dweller, crimson clad,
   Bright bird of the sun;
When the winter days grow bad
   And the seeds are done,
Where the lonely farm-house stands.
   Cautiously come I
And about your harvest lands
  Pause a while to spy.

Prove you kindly in the end, 
   Haply I shall stay;
And you have me for a friend
   All the livelong day.
Toddling round the garden bed,
   Swaggering thro' the grass,
Lifting up a crimson head
   To watch you as you pass.

"Den"
Herald, 8 May 1933, p6