Bush Birds by Lola Gornall

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It seems the happiest of all
To hear the bush birds sing and call;
To see their shadows soft and fleeting,
Dapple the grass as they go sweeping
From tree to tree with flashing wings
Are they searching for the spring
With Nature's eyes and Nature's speech
That neither book not sage can teach?

I hear them when the autumn rain
Dashes against my window-pane;
When shutters creak and chimneys roar,
And the bleak wind whistles past the door,
And the blue smoke curls in misty air
Through the blue gums standing gaunt and bare;
And always their cry is "Sweet, Sweet, Sweet,"
Though the spring lies deaf in dark defeat.

Naught can daunt them, naught distress,  
Neither cold nor sunlessness;
They sweep and circle, poise and chase,
Fly the storm winds in the face;
And, when the clouds have wept and flown,      
Measure the sun's song with their own
Trusting hearts and breasts that pair
From here and there and everywhere.

More magical than poet's verse
The little songs that they rehearse,
Who have but for their sole defence
The bravery of innocence
That finds, between the sky and the ground,
Simple needs for the daily round,
Strong in the faith to which they cling
That after winter comes the spring.

First published
in The Canberra Times, 26 October 1929

Author reference site: Austlit

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on October 26, 2012 7:58 AM.

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