The silver rills thy rocky slopes o’erflowing, The thunders of thy falls go rushing o’er To join the tree-fringed rivers in their going Down to the briny deep of Neptune’s floor. And Kosciusko towers in mighty solitude, Poising her regal head toward the sky, And ’mid the vast silence of her altitude Views undisturbed the storm clouds passing by. Thy subterranean rivers are unsounded, The golden corn is quivering on thy plain, Thy depths are stored with mineral wealth unbounded, The fame of which hath crossed the sounding main. And thou dost stand, thine arms outstretched with pleasure, To greet thy friends from that dear Motherland, To welcome them and give them of thy treasure, The wealth of ages which thou can’st command-- Of ages when thy central seas became Haunts of primeval monsters of the deep; When thy volcanoes belched their sulphurous flame, And covered all with an eternal sleep, But thou art waking now, thou great Australia; Thou art an empire of thy very self, A trinity of oceans thee embraces, And crowns thee Empress of one Commonwealth. Oh, may our Empire-builders faithful be, Basing thy pillars’ vast foundations’ might Firm on the rock of justice, truth, and liberty, Leading thy people upward to the light. [Illustration: text decoration] PEACE. Would that I had the muse’s lyre, The poet’s gift, and warm desire To cleave the heights to glory’s fame; From mountain pinnacles proclaim-- Peace, universal peace. I’d string my lute, and make the chords Echo my heart’s deep burning words; And bid the nations contemplatively To vibrate to the grandest harmony-- The song of peace. For nations rise, and nations fall; Battles are fought, and over all Death’s wings, their shadowy darkness spread With woe and terror, fraught with dread To all mankind. Where are the ruins of magnificence Which the grim demon war has overthrown? Where are the hanging gardens of Semiramis When Babylonian maids their glances threw Upon their bloom? Egypt and Carthage, Greece and Rome havepassed In long procession down the stream of Time; The sands of centuries o’er them are cast. Gone are those mighty cities at whose shrine Knelt luxury and vice. And in their train came war with cruel knife, Creating widows, pestilence and death; And man against his brother in the strife Fell ’neath the devastating monster’s breath, His blood the price. Then speed the day when the white dove of peace, With olive branch extended to the world, Shall all unite in brotherhood to man, With flag of universal love unfurled-- And war shall cease. [Illustration: text decoration] HOPE.