Welcome, sweet Spring, but not for wealth
Of wattle bloom, or daffodil,
Or violets, or lilies fair,
Or perfumed, pale jonquil;
We love them all, but willingly
We would them all delete,
Rather than lose thy heavenly breath,
Boronia, brown and sweet.
Thou fair, fair West, what wealth is then,
Thy kauri forests grand,
Thy happy homesteads, and thy stretch
Of green, productive land;
Thy streamlets margined rich with flowers,
Thy rivers deep and wide,
Where the graceful black swans thou hast limned
For thy insignia glide.
Thou hast thy "Gold of Ophir," too,
Where in the deep, dark mine,
With hidden wealth for workers' hands
The wine-red rubies shine;
We envy not thee one or all,
But gladly turn to greet
Thy spring-sent messages of love,
In brown Boronia sweet.
The lover lays thee on his lips,
And sighs for kisses fled,
The mother lays thee on her breast,
And weeps her baby dead;
I place thy by my weakling pen,
And Heaven-sent tidings greet,
For well I know thou hast been there,
Boronia, brown and sweet.
First published in The Australasian, 23 September 1907
[Thanks to Lucy Sussex for providing this.]
