Happy Creek Poem by John Bernard O'Hara

The little creek goes winding
   Thro' gums of white and blue,
   A silver arm
   Around the farm
   It flings, a lover true;
And softly, where the rushes lean,
   It sings (O sweet and low)
   A lover's song,
   And winds along,
   How happy -- lovers know!

The little creek goes singing
   By maidenhair and moss,
   Along its banks
   In rosy ranks
   The wild flowers wave and toss;
And ever where the ferns dip down
   It sings (O sweet and low)
   A lover's song,
   And winds along,
   How happy -- lovers know!

The little creek takes colour,
   From summer skies above;
   Now blue, now gold,
   Its waters fold
   The clouds in closest love;
But loudly when the thunders roll
   It sings (nor sweet, nor low)
   No lover's song,
   But sweeps along,
   How angry -- lovers know!

The little creek for ever
   Goes winding, winding down,
   Away, away,
   By night, by day,
   Where dark the ranges frown;
But ever as it glides it sings,
   It sings (O sweet and low)
   A lover's song,
   And winds along,
   How happy -- lovers know!