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