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[Page 9]
Summer Song
Down by the river,
Ere morning had grown into noon,
A thrush with his singing began,
And as sudden was silent. Again
His note came trilling, and soon
With a song that rippled and ran
To a constant happy refrain
The trees were aquiver.
While the dew-light around us still glistened
A thrush with his singing began.
And we stood, and listened and listened.
For hearing this joyous new-comer,
We knew you were too, O Summer,
Down by the river.
O, our hearts rang for you,
All through the morning of haze,
The tremulous song of the thrush,
Till you rose in a glory of light.
Then, season of radiant days,
There came a wonder and hush
That spread over hollow and height.
And no song rang for you.
Ah, though our lips may not follow
The tremulous song of the thrush,
Yet, when over the hillside and hollow
You break through the morning of haze,
That parts from your splendor asunder,
We too, may be mute in our wonder,
With him that sang for you.
Harley Matthews
Fairfield
N.S.W.
[Transcribed by John Kerr for the State Library of New South Wales]