I hear the silvery laughter float From out the cool, dim hall, I hear my brothers’ merry shout As they each other call. I stand within the ancient room I see the books so rare, And smell the olden rich perfume Of roses clustering there. And I become a child again, And listen to the prayer My father breathes, like a refrain, Which all our beings stir. And from the stairs, so black with age The mullioned windows view, Through which once gazed some vanished sage The while he pensive grew. Its leaden panes with vitreous eyes Look over o’er the sea, Which there in rolling grandeur lies, God’s moving mystery. And as I through each chamber tread With footsteps light as air, I feel that sorrow’s years have fled And left me young and fair. And then the old clock in the tower, With solemn voice and deep, Booms out the ne’er returning hour, And wakes me from my sleep. Lo! from all sadness springs a joy The world may never give, And in these realms of memory My soul at night doth live. [Illustration: text decoration] THE WATTLE. A maze of gorgeous golden bloom The yellow wattle gleams, A glorious wealth of sweet perfume, It dwells beside the streams. And deep in bush and forest glade On verdurous velvet lawn, Or avenues of waving shade, This empress--Austral born. With leaves of frosted silver chased, Their myriad tiny heads By trembling drops of dew enlaced A glittering radiance sheds. And Auster’s beauteous witching flower Hath e’er a jealous hue, For Helios breathed his passion there, And flamed it through and through. The dawn with heavy scent is sweet, The petals shower their gold In soft abandon at its feet New glory to unfold. ’Tis seen in Afric’s torrid clime, Yet, though it bloometh there, Its spirit dreameth of the time It drank of Austral’s air. Dear national flower, an emblem thou Of what our children need; To train with love their hands to do Each day some golden deed. AUSTRAL’S SONG. Lo! from her long sleep of ages Austral now awakes; Hear the glorious strains ye sages, Her glad morning breaks. Borne afar across the water Trembling to the sky, List! For Britain’s royal daughter Chants her song of joy. ’Mid terrestrial constellations May her statesmen shine; Weld, O Lord, her vast foundations With the link divine. Righteousness be her attendant, Majesty her throne, Liberty her shield resplendent, Equity her crown.