[Editor: This poem by Philip Durham Lorimer was published in Songs and Verses by Philip Durham Lorimer: An Australian Bush Poet, 1901.]
Rain
How sweet is the sound of the beautiful rain,
As it falls o’er the face of the earth,
Bringing joy and repose to our dwellings again,
In the midst of our family dearth !
No cry is so full and so watered with tears
As the one that is heard with a sigh,
For water at home, from the depth of our fears ;
For from want of it many may die.
Oh ! beautiful sound, truly welcome to all
Is the shower on the zinc or the pane ;
It speaks to our hearts with a wonderful call
That our tanks may be ready again.
No matter the mud or the clay at thy door,
For thine arms may soon sweep all away ;
But open thy heart with thy gratitude more
For the rain that is falling to-day.
Now hie for the plough, and the sturdy tried team,
That the land may be ready for seed ;
Your idleness now would ingratitude seem,
For your stock must have winter’s green feed.
The loss during drought can be met with a laugh,
As you look on green paddocks around.
So hie for the plough, as the water you quaff :
For the fodder, sow seed in the ground.
Moss Vale.
Source:
E. A. Petherick (editor). Songs and Verses by Philip Durham Lorimer: An Australian Bush Poet, William Clowes and Sons, London, 1901, pages 155-156
Editor’s notes:
hie = hurry
quaff = drink
The Institute of Australian Culture
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