There is waving of grass in the breeze <br /> And a song in the air, <br />And a murmur of myriad bees <br /> That toil everywhere. <br />There is scent in the blossom and bough, <br /> And the breath of the Spring <br />Is as soft as a kiss on a brow -- <br /> And Spring-time I sing. <br /> <br />There is drought on the land, and the stock <br /> Tumble down in their tracks <br />Or follow -- a tottering flock -- <br /> The scrub-cutter's axe. <br />While ever a creature survives <br /> The axes shall swing; <br />We are fighting with fate for their lives -- <br /> And the combat I sing.<br /><br />Andrew Barton Paterson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-singer-of-the-bush/
