Have you seen the bush by moonlight, from the train, go running by? <br />Blackened log and stump and sapling, ghostly trees all dead and dry; <br />Here a patch of glassy water; there a glimpse of mystic sky? <br />Have you heard the still voice calling – yet so warm, and yet so cold: <br />"I'm the Mother-Bush that bore you! Come to me when you are old"? <br /> <br />Did you see the Bush below you sweeping darkly to the Range, <br />All unchanged and all unchanging, yet so very old and strange! <br />While you thought in softened anger of the things that did estrange? <br />(Did you hear the Bush a-calling, when your heart was young and bold: <br />"I'm the Mother-bush that nursed you; Come to me when you are old"?) <br /> <br />In the cutting or the tunnel, out of sight of stock or shed, <br />Did you hear the grey Bush calling from the pine-ridge overhead: <br />"You have seen the seas and cities – all is cold to you, or dead – <br />All seems done and all seems told, but the grey-light turns to gold! <br />I'm the Mother-Bush that loves you – come to me now you are old"?<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-the-night-train/
