Clematis on Bulba

'Neath the bushland’s shaded light

On fair Bulba's ancient Isle,

Trails a vine in festoons hanging

Bidding you the hours beguile.

With her petals white, entrancing

Like a fall of driven snow,

Sweet Clematis, birds are telling

Springs at hand, you've whispered so.

Like a bridal veil be-spread

O'er the earth's eternal spring

Soon we'll know that winter's sped

And earth awakes to Festal ring.

Soon wee orchids petalled fine

From their long and dreary sleep

Will wake and earth be greeting

Fast upon the frost's retreat.

Where the moisture still doth linger

Sundews bloom to greet the dawn

Tiny insects, oh, be wary

Or you'll wish you'd ne'er been born!

Sarsaparilla too is spreading

With a carpet rich and rare,

Purple with a wondrous splendour

Like scattered jewels everywhere.

And the very air is fragrant

With sweet perfume of the 'May'

Blended with the sweet refreshing

Scent from Wattle's old array.

Birds are tuning too, in chorus

Just wee little roundelays,

But when spring returns in earnest

Bushland’s echoes will be gay.

Magpie, pee-wit, wren and thrush

Silver-eye and mocking jay

Skylarks voice on high a'ringing

Kooka's laughing bold display

What a chorus; oh! be joyous

Cast dull care and gloom aside,

Come ye pilgrims join the music

On fair Bulba's ancient Isle.

See the sunsets rich and rare

As their glories they unfold

What a blending of the pastels

Ever new, yet very old!

See the Lake's translucent surface

Changing as the sun sinks low,

On the mirrored bushland falling

Beams of fire and golden glow.

Or when the queen of night has risen

Cold yet mighty, from her sleep

Come and tarry while the rippled

Silver plays upon the deep.

To the dusky sons of Nature

Who long years did here reside,

I would lift my heart in passing

From their home, fair Bulba's Isle.

Thompson Noble. 7.8.1932

This work by Lake Macquarie City Library is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License