The Emu.
Finish’d the tale, Purley arose,
The list’ners hasten to repose;
The camp is sunk in quiet sleep,
The moon-beams through the foliage peep.
The cricket chirps beneath the grass,
The wodlalla bends beneath the blast;
The fragrant wattle scents the air,
The yerké skips around his lair.
Heaven’s bridegroom, in all his pride,
Doth forth in silv’ry glory ride;
The evil spirits try in vain,
Their unholy hands with blood to stain.
Loudly wails the voice “kokunya,”
The native trembles in his gunya;
The lonely mawpawk softly coos,
As coyishly his mate he woos.
Upon the beach, the gentle roll
Speaks sweet words to the list’ning soul;
The wind sighs in the patta tree,
Like a mother’s softest lullaby.
Beauteous nature beams around,
Breathing many a pleasing sound!
We linger o’er the enchanted scene,
Sweet vision of a heavenly dream!
Grass Tree.