A gumleaf from Warren, all withered and brown,
Fluttered out from a letter to-day,
And my heart has gone back where Macquarie winds down
By dusty red stock-route and sleepy grey town
Between banks where the river-oaks sway.
The far-travelled sheep lie at rest in the bend,
And the camp fire gleams red to the sky,
The shadows creep round us, and day's at an end
And the gum trees lean down to us, friend unto friend,
As the night-winds go murmuring by.
Not a horse-bell of ours but the gum trees have heard
As their watch by our camp fire they keep;
Not a tired overlander, stretched, booted and spurred,
In a dream of mobs rushing has muttered and stirred
But the gums sang him back to his sleep.
Aye! and those of us holding lone watch in the night -
Have we ever looked upward in vain
To the magic brown branches that trellis the blue,
Where the stars of our comfort look hopefully through,
Giving strength for the battle again.
A leaf from Macquarie ! My heart's on the road
With a mob yarded out of the years !
No higher-priced gift could a hand have bestowed
Than this withered brown leaf with its mystical load
Of old laughter, old labour, and tears I
