There is waving of grass in the breeze
And a song in the air,
And a murmur of myriad bees
That toil everywhere.
There is scent in the blossom and bough,
And the breath of the Spring
Is as soft as a kiss on a brow --
And Spring-time I sing.
There is drought on the land, and the stock
Tumble down in their tracks
Or follow -- a tottering flock --
The scrub-cutter's axe.
While ever a creature survives
The axes shall swing;
We are fighting with fate for their lives --
And the combat I sing.
A Singer Of The Bush
Banjo Paterson
(1)
Poem topics: breath, fate, kiss, song, time, grass, creature, soft, follow, spring, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about A Singer Of The Bush poem by Banjo Paterson
Best Poems of Banjo Paterson