Gold of the tangled wilderness of wattle, <br /> Break in the lone green hollows of the hills, <br />Flame on the iron headlands of the ocean, <br /> Gleam on the margin of the hurrying rills. <br /> <br />Come with thy saffron diadem and scatter <br /> Odours of Araby that haunt the air, <br />Queen of our woodland, rival of the roses, <br /> Spring in the yellow tresses of thy hair. <br /> <br />Surely the old gods, dwellers on Olympus, <br /> Under thy shining loveliness have strayed, <br />Crowned with thy clusters, magical Apollo, <br /> Pan with his reedy music may have played. <br /> <br />Surely within thy fastness, Aphrodite, <br /> She of the sea-ways, fallen from above, <br />Wandered beneath thy canopy of blossom, <br /> Nothing disdainful of a mortal's love. <br /> <br />Aye, and Her sweet breath lingers on the wattle, <br /> Aye, and Her myrtle dominates the glade, <br />And with a deep and perilous enchantment <br /> Melts in the heart of lover and of maid.<br /><br />James Lister Cuthbertson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wattle-and-myrtle/
