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Gum Leaves

Edward S. Sorenson

A son of the open, and bush-land bred,
       He crouched in the dug-out cells,
In the North of France, where the field was red
       With the blaze of the bursting shells;
Where the water dripped as from rain-soaked eaves,
       And swelled in a muddy swirl;
And he took from his wallet two faded leaves—
                                                 Grey-gum leaves—
       That were mailed by a Southland girl.

The sounds grew faint, and the scenes grew dim,
       And he rides in the dawn again:
Down Stockyard Creek, where the duckbill swim,
       And over the Old Man Plain;
Through the gossamer nets that the spider weaves
       In the tussocks around Tooloom,
‘Mid the symphonies of the wind-stirred leaves—
                                                  Green gum leaves—
       And the scent of the gums in bloom.

From dawn till dusk on the overland,
       To the clinking of bit and bar,
He follows the mobs with his droving band,
       And watches by moon and star,
On the olden tracks where the tramping beeves
       Had passed through the green and gray.
To the rustle of grass and the swish of leaves—
                                                Long gum leaves—
       And the whisper of winds at play.

The pack-horse jogs through the dancing haze,
       With a tune in his far-borne load;
The camp-fires burn with a cheery blaze
       By the side of the open road,
Where the lean men sprawl on the blue-grass sheaves.
       With a laugh, though the day was hard,
And yarn ‘neath the stars and the drooping leaves—
                                                       Sweet gum leaves—
       Of the run, and the shed, and yard.

The ‘possums play round the yarran boles
       In the bend of a long lagoon;
The bullfrogs croak in the gilghi holes,
       Agleam ‘neath the rising moon.
The swan calls down as its black form cleaves
       Through the mid-air, sweet and clear;
And the crickets croon ‘mong the grass and leaves—
                                                           Dry gum leaves—
       With the horse-bells tinkling near.

O’er the saltbush hills and the black-soil plains,
       He dwells with old mates at work,
Or traces the tracks of the camel trains,
       From the Warri down to Bourke.
So the scenes renew, and a brave heart heaves
       To the bush days’ laughing whirl,
In the happy clime whence the sun-kissed leaves—
                                                        Twin gum leaves—
       Were mailed by a Southland girl.

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