Could I hear the kookaburras once again.
Could I hear them as I heard them when the joy of living spurred them,
When the world was clean and wholesome and they laughed the gloom away,
All the fatal fiction scorning that the canvas of the morning
Is but splashed with faded colours from the brush of yesterday.
Oh, I’d bless them and I’d cheer them, could I wander off and hear them
Boom the head-lights of the coming day that sweep the hills amain,
For I’d know the tocsin sounding of a fuller hope abounding,
Could I hear them hail the dawning once again.
To no age in all the story of the bearded years and hoary