“Wattle Blossoms.”
[By C.G.L.]
Two little folk — like the babes in the wood,
Are wandering hand in hand ;
Music of Spring makes the deep forests ring,
So all things may understand
That there’s a “Something now seeming to say
“Let everything sing that may,
Out of the depths of a winter’s gloom
Has Spring not arisen to-day?”
Myrtle is thoughtful, her eyes fill with tears,
A look that is “far away.”
Though the surroundings are lovely, indeed,
Our eyes to the child must stray.
Lending wee Sonny, a cherub of four,
Who listens with keen delight,
“Mummy,” she tells of, in accents of love,
While striving with tears to fight.
Rounding a bend in the fern-bowered creek
They pause ’neath a wattle-tree ;
Gold-tinted blossoms are blazing with light,
An elysium for bird and for bee.
Ah ! tearful eyes, little quivering lips ;
The lassie is trying to tell
Messages tender, their dear “mummy” left
The babe that she loved so well.
“Sonny,” the little child slowly remarks,
“When mummy was . . . going away.
Up mid bright clouds she would meet us, she said,
Clouds golden as wattle to-day :
Asked me to show you the wattles in spring,
’Cause she wouldn’t be here then . . .
Oh! How I wish our dear mummy would come
And be mummy to us once again.”
Source:
The Alexandra and Yea Standard and Yarck, Gobur, Thornton and Acheron Express (Alexandra, Vic.), Friday 30 October 1908, page 3
[Editor: Corrected “would’nt” to “wouldn’t”.]
The Institute of Australian Culture
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