Our Gordon looked within his breast and sang;
And all his heart was in the melody
That leapt from off his lips and clearly rang
Throughout the bush in sad, sweet harmony
With all the other sounds that there are born,
And cradled 'mongst the gullies and the gums,
And like a stream from out the distant morn
Australian, his flood of singing comes
To us to-day; and with his best heart's blood
The stream is all alive ... And live it must
Whilst e'er in yonder tree so full in bud,
'Neath which his mouldered bones enrich the dust,
By day his notes stir in the song-bird's breast
And whisper in the boughs perpetually,
And whilst by night the breeze that knows no rest,
Picks up the echo of his melody.
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 14 October 1933
And all his heart was in the melody
That leapt from off his lips and clearly rang
Throughout the bush in sad, sweet harmony
With all the other sounds that there are born,
And cradled 'mongst the gullies and the gums,
And like a stream from out the distant morn
Australian, his flood of singing comes
To us to-day; and with his best heart's blood
The stream is all alive ... And live it must
Whilst e'er in yonder tree so full in bud,
'Neath which his mouldered bones enrich the dust,
By day his notes stir in the song-bird's breast
And whisper in the boughs perpetually,
And whilst by night the breeze that knows no rest,
Picks up the echo of his melody.
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 14 October 1933
