Whenever I dream of hope for a land,
Or the promise of joys to be,
It is not the leaders in command,
Or the visions of wealth or buildings grand,
Or its elders I ask to see
But the eyes of its youth as they pass ashine
On the quest of its weekly boon,
When the heart grows light and the day be fine
On a Saturday afternoon.
Never was world so workaday. Never was work so drear,
If a land's young laugh its fears away
Once in a while, no skies may stay
Shrouded for long by fear.
For the heart of youth shall be the gauge
And youth's voice call the tune,
Confounding ever the wisest sage
On a Saturday afternoon.
Sing hey for the end, for the crowd of the week,
When, bidding a truce to care
The young go forth new life to seek,
And brave young body and glowing cheek
Tell a land's whole story there.
A glad tale told in the shining eyes
And the patter of laughing shoon,
With life at the full when hope runs high
On a Saturday afternoon.
First published in The Herald, 3 June 1933
Author reference sites: C.J. Dennis, Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography, Australian Poetry Library
See also.
