Page:The witch-maid & other verses (1914).djvu/34

 The tragic ring-barked forests Stark white beneath the moon, The sapphire-misted mountains, The hot gold hush of noon. Green tangle of the brushes Where lithe lianas coil, And orchids deck the tree tops And ferns the crimson soil.

Core of my heart, my country! Her pitiless blue sky, When sick at heart, around us   We see the cattle die— But then the grey clouds gather And we can bless again The drumming of an army, The steady, soaking rain.

Core of my heart, my country! Land of the Rainbow Gold,