Classic Poem

Come, ye mothers of a new generation;
Rise, oh, daughters of the great South land;
Come from your homes on the farm and station,
Where the tall gums and the water bores stand;
Come with babes in your soft embraces,
Priceless gifts to a fair new land,
Presage meet for the race of races,
Hope of a nation great and grand.
Come with the full Cornucopia.
Gay with flowers that on ranges grew,
Fruit from the valley, red peach and pear,
Grapes from the hillside, white and blue;
Bring ye carven wood, warm and scented;
Busts in pure marble, white and cold;
New device by quick brain invented;
Modelled clay by deft fingers rolled.
Come with sweet nature's fair replica,
Caught entangled in colours bright;
Scenes at morn and when moonbeams flicker
Webs of silver o'er waters white.
Bring in cloth of the finest weaving,
Tapestries by the ancients taught;
Broidered silk in lifeless relieving,
Silver threads with fine gold inwrought.
Come with smiles on your sun-kissed faces,
Here on the dais to take your stand,
Honoured guests from the trackless places,
Pioneers of a golden land.
Ye here will find fair sisters waiting,
Votaries of high handicraft,
Modern skill with the ancients' mating,
Idealists of inspired waft,
Wealth and culture, and birth and beauty,
Art and labour in conclave met —
Stewards charged with a nation's duty,
Patriots firm in high purpose set.