SEA SPRAYS SMOKE DRIFT 



Shall we sleep through night's long slumber 



Unforgotten still? 

 Onward ! onward ! toiling ever, 



Weary steps and slow, 

 Doubting oft, despairing never, 



To the goal we go ! 



Hark ! the bells on distant cattle 



Waft across the range, 

 Through the golden-tufted wattle. 



Music low and strange ; 

 Like the marriage peal of fairies 



Comes the tinkling sound, 

 Or like chimes of sweet St Mary's 



On far English ground. 

 How my courser champs the snaffle, 



And with nostril spread, 

 Snorts and scarcely seems to ruffle 



Fern leaves with his tread ; 

 Cool and pleasant on his haunches 



Blows the evening breeze, 

 Through the overhanging branches 



Of the wattle trees : 



Onward ! to the Southern Ocean, 



Glides the breath of Spring. 

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