Still, not all is black disaster;
Death is fleet, but life is faster,
And its numbers aye o’ermaster
Death’s invading arms!
O’er a gum-tree, lightning-blasted,—
(Where once honey-bees repasted!)
See the Forest Queen her creamy mantle throw;
Or upon a bank of rubble
Barely clothed with ferny stubble,
Watch the purple smilax dainty blossoms blow!