LITERATURE. 



I think \()ur name i- just the name for you. I luuy niy face in your gay sweet- 

 ness, and I know you now as one of the sweetest breatlis of the sweet spring- 

 time. 



To-day I played with tliose golden halls that only come witli the first bn-atli 

 of spring. " Late Wattle," we call it — " la/.y " wattle, that only wakens when 

 spring ris 'S gail\' on the damps of winter. Or is it that you linger to mingle your 

 fragrant breath with that of the native rose, or to give greetings to the majestic 

 W'aratah, and to tlu' many blossoms that herald in Australia's r-pring? 



No, sweet, pink Boronia ! I am not overlooking your beautiful, starry sweet- 

 ness. I went to the Post Office one day for a letter from the far-off land where 

 I have been, and, standing a moment as I was passing to revel in the sweetness 

 of violets, narcissi, and stocks, I saw a bunch of starry, pink Bc^ronia that flooded 

 me with remembrances. I was a child again, and my pinafore was full of pink 

 wild flowers. Ah, little flower ! You so filled me with my happy childhood that, 

 clasping you tightly to my heart, I took you straight back to my home. 'Twas 

 manv hours after when I remembered that my letter still lay imclaimed. 



Ah ! wild flowers of Australia — sweet wild flowers of our homeland, 

 Australia — how dear you are to those of us who see you but now after long 

 years ! What associations, what tender memories you bring back to us ! What 

 a sweet, sweet breath of spring you bear to us ! Though at week-ends we may 

 ourselves gather you from the beguiling slopes of th.' Blue Mountains — a\'e, from 

 above the rocky cliffs of Coogee, from the bushy lands near Manly ;uul Middle 

 Harbour, and from the reaches of the rivers at our gates, we delight in seeing 

 you in the very midst of our city. We rejoice that thus your silent sweetness 

 daily spreads gladness in our hearts. 



\\'ell is it that, on the flower-stands, in pride of place among the choicest 

 blossoms from the gardener's choicest patch, we may see and smell our sweet wild 

 flowers — Nature's Breath o' Spring. 



HOME AGAIN. 



(Sydney Morning Herald, Wednesday, August 14, 1912.) 



