The Bush

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.