The trees whispered as he went by.

It was a lonely place. He heard

The crake cry and the plover cry.

He stopped and stared. There in the green

A strange woman stood watching him,

The loveliest he had ever seen.

She turned and ran a little way,

Then waited, looking back at him.

‘Follow, follow,’ she seemed to say.

‘Oh, I must follow her,’ said he.

‘She will be in my dreams for ever

If I let her go from me.’

Again she ran, again she stayed,

And ever led and lured him on

Half eagerly and half afraid,

Until a water barred the way,

The hushed swamp of the Woor Woman

Where none would venture night or day.

Beyond, he saw the water gleam.

‘Follow, follow,’ she seemed to say.

Bhoori followed as one in dream.

Then out upon the water dim

Lightly she ran and there stood,

Stood on the water watching him.

‘Now I have seen it, now I know

She is of the Shadow People.’

And when like friendly comfort came

The red camp fires of his tribe

They welcomed him and called his name.

But Bhoori seemed as one in thrall,

For these to him were now strangers,

Faces he did not know at all.

They heard his tale all wonder-eyed,

And some smiled, but the old men

Shook their heads and talked aside.

‘It is the sign of old,’ they said

‘Bhoori has seen the Woor Woman,

In three days’ time we'll find him dead.’

The Dawn Is at Hand

Dark brothers, first Australian race,

Soon you will take your rightful place

In the brotherhood long waited for,

1. Fringe-dwellers no more.

Sore, sore the tears you shed

When hope seemed folly and justice dead.

Was the long night weary? Look up, dark band,

1. The dawn is at hand.

Go forward proudly and unafraid

To your birthright all too long delayed,

For soon now the shame of the past

1. Will be over at last.

You will be welcomed mateship-wise

In industry and in enterprise;

No profession will bar the door,

1. Fringe-dwellers no more.

Dark and white upon common ground

In club and office and social round,

Yours the feel of a friendly land,

1. The grip of the hand.

Sharing the same equality

In college and university,

All ambitions of hand or brain,

1. Yours to attain

For ban and bias will soon be gone,

The future beckons you bravely on

To art and letters and nation lore,

1. Fringe-dwellers no more.

Municipal Gum

Gumtree in the city street,

Hard bitumen around your feet,

Rather you should be

In the cool world of leafy forest halls

And wild bird calls.

Here you seem to me

Like that poor cart-horse

Castrated, broken, a thing wronged,

Strapped and buckled, its hell prolonged,

Whose hung head and listless mien express

Its hopelessness.

Municipal gum, it is dolorous

To see you thus

Set in your black grass of bitumen –

O fellow citizen,

What have they done to us?

My Love