Gallant is Spring along thy laughing hills, <br />With wattle’s loveliest scent and gleam of gold, <br />When the good rain hath quickened all thy mould, <br />And the hot musk thine air with incense fills. <br />Sweet is the chime of all thy tinkling rills, <br />And fair thy Summer’s glory to behold, <br />And soft is life for thee, the sunny-souled, <br />Far from the world and all its olden ills. <br /> <br />Yet ’tis not calm that builds the hero breed, <br />High hearts are tempered ’neath a stormy star, <br />Through want and danger doth the soul increase, <br />Stern rings the clarion voice of Angel Need <br />To bid thee vanquish self, and gaze afar <br />And save thy soul alive from Harlot Peace.<br /><br />Archibald Thomas Strong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnets-of-the-empire-australia-1902/
