While The Billy BoilsSearchDear faithful trees, I find you steadfast still,In spite of time and change!With musing eyes I roam the rock-strewn hill,And look out towards the range.Soft sun-sped arrows pierce the forest thro’,In long, clear lanes of light,They melt and mingle in a mist of blue,Where shadow steals in sight.
The land is full of mellow noontide tones,And Summer sleep profound;The lizards bask upon the warm, grey stones;There’s neither stir nor soundIn all the great bush-garden where I stand.A white-winged moth floats near,Roused from the fern by my forgetful hand,And yet too wild for fear.
A sea-blown wind is rising from the coolOf breezy ocean ways,And stirs the waters of yon shallowing pool,That wastes in Summer days.I watch the amber water shining outSo bravely from the reeds,—The hard, hoof-trodden margins set aboutWith fringe of withering weeds.
Each soaring eucalyptus, lifted high,The wandering wind receives;I watch the great boughs drawn against the sky,Laden with trembling leaves.A soft, harmonious music, full and rare,Murmurs the boughs along—The voice of Nature’s God is solemn there,In that deep undersong.
O trees, your melodies seem passing sweet!How changing years have sped,Since last I saw the roots about my feet,The leaves above my head!No childish form your shadow shields to-day,Cast on the grasses low,—But wandered far from your kind arms away,The child you used to know.
Fill me again with that unfailing love,Unvext by hopes or fears;Your lifted branches kept my eyes above,In those sweet, untried years.Give me the old brave trust and steadfast faith,The large and high beliefIn noblest things, unshadowed by a wraithOf falsehood or of grief!
Take from my life the burden of the years;My tired soul craves rest!Make me again the child that Nature rears,Gathered against her breast.I would be wise in earth’s sweet meanings, taughtBy angels of my youth;Their deep and serious lessons came unsought,And never failed in truth.
Speak, whispering trees! unchanged thro’ all the stormThat beat my young life low:You’ve grown thro’ wind, and rain, and sunbeams warm,Careless of all, I know!Yet gladly I rejoice, since I have foundThe staunch old friends I knew,—Your roots firm in the dear, familiar ground,Your heads high in the blue!
I am content to satisfy the needOf deeper being here,Learning all secrets from the frailest weed,Flowering a moment near,Trusting that Nature, with her pure refrains,Will lead me to the light:—Keeping within my heart earth’s faithful strains,To hold me to the right!