To Canberra (1957) Poem by Rob Dyer

To Canberra

On the prismed green of your grey hills,
where once when I was young only the kangaroo
stealthily by night and the strident cockatoo
roamed undismayed, fearless in a childhood world,
city unsanctified where now my buried heart has come,
summer lies with all her merchandise displayed,
the artificial oak unfurls her petalled leaf,
the upswept silver of the spreading poplar defies
the all-year gum to check his effervescent joy.

Yet the sequestered heart cannot bud by bud
pace down the season's roads to fulness and to death.
Keep sun, keep heat from me, my love,
till blood can beat so hot, so cold,
leaves blossom on the naked, rooted stock -
words quarried in the brain's deep archaeology,
polished with love for those who were and those who are,
and oh so much for those who will,
between wide seas, create our sons their summer land.