The Time of Tumult
Joy in the wilderness, joy in the mart:
A mystery beats in at every door;
The tender thoughts assail the tender heart;
In the undimmed the little rivers roar;
The gaudy flowers amaze us more and more.
It is the time when cherries lose their green,
When new-weaned lambs have heavy sorrowing,
And young maids know the most that love can mean.
O time of tumult, when all choirs sing,
Tempest of all the colours, jubilant Spring!
Shaw Neilson, Beauty Imposes: Some Recent Verse, Sydney: Angus & Robertson, 1938, page 23