| Walter Murdoch (18741970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918. |
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| 86. Song of the Trees |
| | | By Mary Colborne-Veel |
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1 WE are the Trees. | |
| Our dark and leafy glade | |
| Bands the bright earth with softer mysteries. | |
| Beneath us changed and tamed the seasons run: | |
| In burning zones, we build against the sun | 5 |
| Long centuries of shade. | |
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2 We are the Trees, | |
| Who grow for mans desire, | |
| Heat in our faithful hearts, and fruits that please. | |
| Dwelling beneath our tents, he lightly gains | 10 |
| The few sufficiencies his life attains | |
| Shelter, and food, and fire. | |
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3 We are the Trees | |
| That by great waters stand, | |
| By rills that murmur to our murmuring bees. | 15 |
| And where, in tracts all desolate and waste, | |
| The palm-foot stays, man follows on, to taste | |
| Springs in the desert sand. | |
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4 We are the Trees | |
| Who travel where he goes | 20 |
| Over the vast, inhuman, wandering seas. | |
| His tutors we, in that adventure brave | |
| He launched with us upon the untried wave, | |
| And now its mastery knows. | |
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5 We are the Trees | 25 |
| Who bear him company | |
| In life and death. His happy sylvan ease | |
| He wins through us; through us, his cities spread | |
| That like a forest guard his unfenced head | |
| Gainst storm and bitter sky. | 30 |
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6 We are the Trees. | |
| On us the dying rest | |
| Their strange, sad eyes, in farewell messages. | |
| And we, his comrades still, since earth began, | |
| Wave mournful boughs above the grave of man, | 35 |
| And coffin his cold breast. | |
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