Banjo Paterson

(17 February 1864 – 5 February 1941 / New South Wales)

A Singer Of The Bush - Poem by Banjo Paterson

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.


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Read poems about / on: spring, fate, kiss, song, time



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004

Poem Edited: Monday, January 24, 2005


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