Dorothea Mackellar

Spring on the Plains

Spring has come to the plains,
And, following close behind,
Green of the welcome rains,
And spice of the first warm wind;
Beating of wings on high,
For, overhead in the blue,
Southward the brolgas fly,
The cranes and pelicans too,
Ibis, and proud black swan—
And quivering cries float clear,
After the birds are gone,
Still lingering in the ear.

Everywhere we pass
The horses tread soft and deep;
Clover and young green grass—
Hark to the grazing sheep,
Cropping steady and slow—
A peaceful, satisfied sound;
Thick on the paths we go
Gold flowers are starring the ground.
Spring! and the world’s astir,
And everything gives praise,
Singing the strength of her
These lovely lengthening days.