Shivery grasses round about us nodding bonnets in the breeze,
Happy Jacks and Twelve Apostles[[4]] hurdle-racing up the trees,
Peewees calling from the gullies, living wonders in the pool—
Hard bare seats and drab gray humdrum at the old bush school.
Early rising in the half-light, when the morn came, bleak and chill;
For the little mother roused us ere the sun had topped the hill,
“Up, you children, late ’tis gettin’.” Shook the house beneath her knock,
And she wasn’t always truthful, and she tampered with the clock.
Keen she was about “the learnin’,” and she told us o’er and o’er
Of our luck to have “the schoolin’ ” right against our very door.