The Traveller’s Joy [poem by Philip Durham Lorimer]

[Editor: This poem by Philip Durham Lorimer was published in Songs and Verses by Philip Durham Lorimer: An Australian Bush Poet, 1901.]

The Traveller’s Joy

Thou’rt first on the hills at the wak’ning of Spring,
In thy haste to be touched by her hand,
Like amethyst beads that drop down from her feet
While she daintily trips o’er the land.
Now peeping o’er logs and from low underwood,
From thy vine that so tenderly curls
Round the bushes, whose leaves softly hang o’er thy bloom,
Where thy beauty in shadows unfurls.

Unfurls to the gaze of the wearied ones when
There is naught but the winter leaves near,
With their tingeing of bronze partly dead on the ground,
Till we see thee in loveliness here,
With the tintings of gold that are ready to break
From many a blossom that soon,
Will rise from its dream in its wildness to be
At thy side in the heat of the noon.

Delightful thy name, and a joy to the heart,
As the traveller, wending his way
Where the path is so steep, and the long windings lead
To a loneliness felt all the day.
Then resting his eyes, when they’re moistened with heat,
On thy delicate beautiful hue,
He knows that the Winter has fled with its storms,
And the charms of the Spring are in view.

January 8, 1893.

E. A. Petherick (editor). Songs and Verses by Philip Durham Lorimer: An Australian Bush Poet, William Clowes and Sons, London, 1901, pages 207-208

Editor’s notes:
amethyst = a purplish tint or moderately purple (from amethyst, the purple or violet transparent quartz used as a gemstone)

wending = making one’s way; to “wend” is to proceed, to go on one’s way, to direct one’s course

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