"This is the gentlest season of the year.
From mists of pearl and gold
The slow sweet hours unfold
To crystal colours, still
As a glass, but not so chill.
All birds speak softly in the Autumn bush.
One bellbird from the deep
Like a call heard in sleep
Chimes: in the bronze-gold gloom
Cool greenhood orchids bloom.
This is the kindliest season of the year.
The sun's gold arrows all
Have lost their barbs: thick fall
The berries ripe, and still
The birds may have their fill.
Now peace and plenteousness have spread their wings
After the blessed rains
On Autumn's hills and plains;
We too give thanks and bless
This southland's graciousness."
"I love a sunburnt country, a land of sweeping plains,
Of rugged mountain ranges, of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons, I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror - the wide brown land for me!"
"This is not easy to understand
For you that come from a distant land
Where all thecolours are low in pitch
Deep purples, emeralds deep and rich
Where autumn's flaming and summer's green
Here is a beauty you have not seen.
Sugar-gum boles flushed to peach-blow pink;
Blue-gums, tall at the clearing's brink;
Ivory pillars, their smooth fine slope
Dappled with delicate heliotrope;
Grey of the twisted mulga-roots;
Golden-bronze of the budding shoots;
Tints of the lichens that cling and spread,
Nile-green, primrose, and palest red . ..
Sheen of the bronze-wing; blue of the crane;
Fawn and pearl of the lyrebird's train,
Cream of the plover; grey of the dove -
These are the hues of the land I love."