Flower called to flower in whispers
By sweet caressing names,
And young gum shoots sprang upward
Like woodland altar-flames;
And, deep in the distant ranges
The magpie's fluting song
Roused musical, mocking echoes
In the woods of Dandenong;
And riders were galloping gaily,
With loose-held flowing reins,
Through dim and shadowy gullies,
Across broad, treeless plains;
And winds through the Heads came wafting
A breath of life from the sea,
And over the blue horizon
The ships sailed silently;
And out of the sea at morning
The sun rose, golden bright,
And in crimson, and gold, and purple
Sank in the sea at night;
But in dreams alone she saw them,
Her hours of toil between;
For life to her was only
A heartless dead machine.
Her heart was in the graveyard
Where lay her children three;
Nor work nor prayer could save them,
Nor tears of agony.
On the lips of her last and dearest
Pressing a farewell kiss,
She cried aloud in her anguish—
"Can God make amends for this?"
Dull, desperate, ceaseless slaving
Bereft her of power to pray,
And Man was careless and cruel,
And God was far away.
But who shall measure His mercies?
His ways are in the deep;
And, after a life of sorrow,
He gave her His gift of sleep.