Have you heard the bell-birds calling, thro' the grey Australian bush,
On some blue September morning, from the trees?
Have you heard a creek go brawling, thro' the noonday's golden hush,
Or the drowsy hum of nesting native bees?
Have you heard the stock-whip cracking like short, sharp pistol shot;
And the thunder of the cattle, rushing by-
When, with saddle, just of sacking, you follow fast and hot,
As you ride and ride beneath the open sky?
Have you seen the White Cross burning in the night, and in the day
Heard the Kookaburras laughing by the pool?
Ah, it's there my heart is turning, to the mountain ranges grey,
And the mists and ferny gullies green and cool!
Next Poem by Peter Austen
Compare with: 'Australia in England' by Zora Cross.