The Bush by James Lister Cuthbertson

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Give us from dawn to dark

Blue of Australian skies.

Let there be none to mark

Whither our pathway lies.

 

Give us when noontide comes

Rest in the woodland free—

Fragrant breath of the gums.

Cold, sweet scent of the sea.

 

Give us the wattle’s gold

And the dew-laden air,

And the loveliness bold

Loneliest landscapes wear.

 

These are the haunts we love,

Glad with enchanted hours.

Bright as the heavens above.

Fresh as the wild bush flowers.

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