LESSON 57 A-ROVING

A-ROVING

V ICTOR J. D ALEY (1858-1905) was one of the greatest of Australian poets.

When the sap runs up the tree,

And the vine runs o'er the wall,

When the blossom draws the bee,

From the forest comes a call,

Wild, and clear, and sweet, and strange,

Many-tongued and murmuring

Like the river in the range—

Tis the joyous voice of Spring!

On the boles [1] of grey, old trees,

See the flying sunbeams play

Mystic [2] , soundless melodies [3] —

A fantastic [4] march and gay;

But the young leaves hear them—hark

How they rustle, every one!—

And the sap beneath the bark,

Hearing, leaps to meet the sun.

Oh, the world is wondrous fair

When the tide of life's at flood!

There is magic in the air,

There is music in the blood;

And a glamour draws us on

To the distance, rainbow-spanned,

And the road we tread upon

Is the road to Fairyland.

Lo! the elders hear the sweet

Voice, and know the wondrous song;

And their ancient pulses beat

To a tune forgotten long;

And they talk in whispers low,

With a smile and with a sigh,

Of the years of long ago,

And the roving days gone by.

—VICTOR J. DALEY

* * *

[1] boles: Trunks.

[2] mystic: Mysterious.

[3] melodies: Tunes.

[4] fantastic: Odd; fanciful.