Oh, have you heard the lovely nightingale
Flute in the dark recesses of the wood,
And listened, touched with magic where you stood,
Until it seemed that every shadowy vale
Gave forth its singing, exquisite and frail?
Oh, have you glimpsed the rolling, wine-dark sea
Beyond the gentle rises of the downs,
And wandered past the busy, smoke-smeared towns
To where the fields lay lost -- and laughed with glee
To stand at last where we had longed to be?
And have you heard against the curtained pane
The English showers beat sharply in the night,
And started up in sudden, dazed delight,
Thinking you heard the soft, Australian rain
Dancing along the gum-tree boughs again?
First published in The Australian Woman's Mirror, 28 August 1928
