And neath the trees, when moonbeams spin
Their silver-dappled counterpane.
What, no Australian song, my pet?
No patriot note on native horn,
To bind the hearts in kindness met,
And link the leal Australian-born?
Yet every exile, wandering lone
Our happy careless homes among,
May live the best his heart has known
Whene’er his country’s songs are sung.