[Editor: This poem by Grant Hervey was published in Australians Yet and Other Verses, 1913.]
Back to the Bush
It is good, now and then, to turn back from the city,
Aye, to leave all its worry and travail and rush ;
To speed forth where the gums in majestic committee
Hold lordly debate in the mid-forest hush.
It is good to come back to the heart-treasured birth-place —
To the spot whence one ventured for fortune or fame ;
For though all the broad world prove a prosperous mirth-place,
One’s home is the goal where most arrow-thoughts aim !
It is good to come back, after trial and trouble,
Though trial prove triumph, and trouble not crush ;
For Fame after all is a transient bubble —
It is good to come back to the Bush !
Dear Bushland — dear home of the simple child’s boyhood —
Dear cradle of hope and of ultimate strength ;
To return to thy hills and thy regions of joyhood
Were better than fortune or fame at long length.
Far away one may toil and may follow ambition,
But one’s heart ever turns to the home in the hills :
One’s thoughts cross the miles in impassioned volition —
One’s being is stirred with strong soul-bidden thrills !
My Bushland, my Mother — I haste to your fastness,
Where the old rivers wind and the rivulets gush ;
Aye, I haste to the Altar I find in your vastness —
It is good to come back to the Bush !
Man’s work takes him forth on a Road that is lonely,
For the heart may be lone in the mightiest throng ;
But one gathers fresh courage and strength lying pronely
’Mid the trees where glad winds breathe their patriot song !
Far away the grim world fights its truceless, shrill battle —
Lo ! the hills are a refuge of silence and peace ;
Green swards and white tree-trunks — in place of Town’s rattle —
How precious and holy and healing are these !
Aye ! the Bush is a Mother who offers a chalice
To her sons when they weary of turmoil and rush ;
Lo ! she giveth them comfort — not rancour or malice —
It is good to come back to the Bush !
Here I walk the old hills, and a great Resolution
Settles down as from God in the core of my soul ;
I shall march with the years in their quick evolution,
And surely shall come at long last to my goal !
Thus the Bush gives fresh purpose and strength to each grim son —
New strength and red courage she merges in me ;
And I hear a low voice, when the sun sinketh crimson,
Saying, “Courage, my Bush-child — success awaits thee !”
Can you hear it ? Then follow drink strength from our mother —
Her Altar lies hidden where grasses grow lush ;
In Her name we shall conquer — aye, in Hers, and no other —
It is good to come back to the Bush !
Source:
Grant Hervey. Australians Yet and Other Verses, Thomas C. Lothian, Melbourne, 1913, pages 35-37
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