The Australian Muse

Uplift thy lyre, and touch the tender strings;
But leave unsung the epics of thy land
Til thou and time have made a song both grand
And mellow with thy long imaginings.
Breathe forth the secret whisperings of thy birth,
And play the soft tunes of thine infancy;
Nor sing the dull oft-told reality
Of worldly ways; but rather let the earth
Grow old; then sing the great songs of its youth.
Then thou, whilst ageing in the pass of time,
Add fame to fame, and rhyme to gloried rhyme
Till fit thy lyre is for song of Truth.
But now, a child-song sweet with laughs and
 Tears,
 And let the unripe ripen with the years.