Andrew Barton Paterson
A Singer of the Bush
There is waving of grass in the breeze
And a song in the air,
And a murmur of myriad bees
That toil everywhere.
There is scent in the blossom and bough,
And the breath of the Spring
Is as soft as a kiss on a brow --
And Spring-time I sing.
There is drought on the land, and the stock
Tumble down in their tracks
Or follow -- a tottering flock --
The scrub-cutter's axe.
While ever a creature survives
The axes shall swing;
We are fighting with fate for their lives --
And the combat I sing.
Andrew Barton Paterson's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (A Singer of the Bush by Andrew Barton Paterson )
- The tombs' people, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- why, kkc bba
- She Is Doing Her Happy Dance, Ronell Warren Alman
- IT's not unusual, george albot
- a break, kkc bba
- You Are Ever Sweet, Pintu Mahakul
- It is better, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- At Kilimanjaro, Tony Adah
- Caught in Rainy Weather, Nia Schexnider
- And we danced, Fluorescent Reality