Autumn — The Golden Age [poem by “Wayfarer”, 1 June 1935]

[Editor: This poem, by “Wayfarer”, regarding autumn and wattle trees, was published in The Sydney Morning Herald (Sydney, NSW), 1 June 1935.]

Autumn — The Golden Age.

Golden is the poplar,
Golden is the plane,
Cassias are bending
’Neath their golden mane.

In the rocky gully,
Mid the boulders grey,
The pale gold of the wattles
Scents the dreaming day.

Oranges and lemons,
Ripening into gold,
Tell of juicy harvest
Glossy leaves enfold.

Sing a song of autumn,
Days are growing cold,
Sleeping bulbs are waking
In the mothering mould.

Sing a song of autumn,
How can man grow old
When flowers and trees are shining
With immortal gold?

WAYFARER.

Source:
The Sydney Morning Herald (Sydney, NSW), 1 June 1935, p. 11 (Late Edition)

Editor’s notes:
mid = of or in the middle of an area, group, position, etc.

’neath = (vernacular) beneath