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A Ballade Of Home
(24 March 1882 – 13 November 1941 / Melbourne / Australia)

A Ballade Of Home

LET others prate of Greece and Rome,
And towns where they may never be,
The muse should wander nearer home.
My country is enough for me;
Her wooded hills that watch the sea,
Her inland miles of springing corn,
At Macedon or Barrakee—
I love the land where I was born.
On Juliet smile the autumn stars
And windswept plains by Winchelsea,
In summer on their sandy bars
Her rivers loiter languidly.
Where singing waters fall and flee
The gullied ranges dip to Lorne
With musk and gum and myrtle tree—
I love the land where I was born.

The wild things in her tangles move
As blithe as fauns in Sicily,
Where Melbourne rises roof by roof
The tall ships serve her at the quay,
And hers the yoke of liberty
On stalwart shoulders lightly worn,
Where thought and speech and prayer are free—
I love the land where I was born.

Princes and lords of high degree,
Smile, and we fling you scorn for scorn,
In hope and faith and memory
I love the land where I was born.

User Rating: 3,2 / 5 ( 15 votes ) 4

Comments (4)

Brilliant piece from the heart!
A fair and lovely ballade, and a wonderful tribute to the truest riches of life, the fairest jewel of any land- liberty.
Affinity with motherland and the place of birth is depicted through this superb poem that is rich in rhyme and rhythm too. Thanks for sharing it here.
The muse should wander! ! Nice piece of work.