My Country The love of field and coppice, Of hilly glade and thicket, Of rocky den and river, Of beauty that is thrifty— The love of field and coppice, Of hilly glade and thicket, Of fields, of wheat and barley, Of, straw and oak and pine;

And in the long dry days When the earth waits for the rain, When gum trees lift their masts of green To keep the summer pain; In the wild, still hours between,
I stand and watch the sea, The creeping shadow of the leaf, The leaf that falls from a tree.

• Dorothea Mackellar