The Australian
The skies that arched his land were blue,
His bush-born winds were warm and sweet,
And yet from earliest hours he knew
The tides of victory and defeat;
From fierce floods thundering at his birth,
From red droughts ravening while he played,
He learned to fear no foes on earth –
“The bravest thing God ever made!”
The bugles of the motherland
Rang ceaselessly across the sea,
To call him and his lean brown band
To shape imperial destiny;
He went, by youth’s grave purpose willed,
The goal unknown, the cost unweighed,
The promise of his blood fulfilled –
“The bravest thing God ever made!”
We know - it is our deathless pride! –
The splendour of his first fierce blows,
How, reckless, glorious, undenied,
He stormed those steel-lined cliffs we know.
And none who saw him scale the height
Behind his reeking bayonet blade
Would rob him of his title-right –
[...] Read more
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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