In the Bush

In the great, wild, lonely bush, Where the bleak winds sing and moan, And the tall trees bend and crush, With a sense of grief alone.

Where the timid creatures hide, And the shadows creep around, In the silence—like a tide, Or a deep and vibrant sound.

There I wander all alone, Through the splendid tangled trees, Where the darkened skies are shown, And the spirit’s calm and ease.

With each step I tread along, Underneath the skies so blue, In the wild, the weak, the strong, Nature whispers soft and true.

• Henry Lawson