Explore "A Singer of the Bush" by Andrew Barton Paterson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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.