Where old thoughts slumber something stirred,
My youth came speading back to me;
And once again a chord was struck
Within my breast. I wished him luck,
That jubilantly piping bird I heard at Booralee.
Night's mantle over all was spread,
It was the hour before the dawn;
And, as I looked up at the sky,
The happy songster to descry,
The moon that erst her light had shed,
Had now that light withdrawn.
But still the lark sang gaily on,
Nor heeded he the cloud-dimmed moon;
Reverberant, the air replied.
As though it felt the minstrel's pride
One grand crescendo, and 'twas gone,
That joy-compelling tune.
Ah! blithesome bard of Booralee,
Why did you cease so soon your song
Had you but known the load of care
That weighed me down, the vibrant air
Might echo still the melody
For which my heart doth long.
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 12 December 1925
My youth came speading back to me;
And once again a chord was struck
Within my breast. I wished him luck,
That jubilantly piping bird I heard at Booralee.
Night's mantle over all was spread,
It was the hour before the dawn;
And, as I looked up at the sky,
The happy songster to descry,
The moon that erst her light had shed,
Had now that light withdrawn.
But still the lark sang gaily on,
Nor heeded he the cloud-dimmed moon;
Reverberant, the air replied.
As though it felt the minstrel's pride
One grand crescendo, and 'twas gone,
That joy-compelling tune.
Ah! blithesome bard of Booralee,
Why did you cease so soon your song
Had you but known the load of care
That weighed me down, the vibrant air
Might echo still the melody
For which my heart doth long.
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 12 December 1925
