"Shepparton is past her prime,"
   Said the seers, not long ago.
"All the triumphs of her clime
May not mock all-conquering Time;
   She is growing old and slow.
E'en the loveliest, liveliest maid
From the zenith soon must fade.

"All her glory's with the past,"
   Said they.  "Fairest roses fail,
None may hope that youth shall last;
Age descends upon her fast;
   Nought shall now avail
To restore her strength, or bring
Back her earlier blossoming."

But, undaunted still, she sought,
   In new unlocked waterways,
That elixir which has brought
All their prophecies to nought;
   Turning them to wandering praise
Of healing waters that flow down
To rejuvenate her town.

Golden fruits more golden yet,
   Gay green pastures, greener still,
Hearten her now to forget
All those bygone days of fret,
   Bygone fears, and turn her will
To ambitions, long undreamed
Till hope with the waters beamed.

Once a rustic village wrapped
   In dull dreams of glories past;
Now, when springs of hope are tapped,
She foresees a city trapped
   In high splendor as, at last,
Comes that destined day when she
Awakes to rural regency.

"Den"
Herald, 13 February 1934, p6