To-night, dear heart, I hear the Call,
The Call that never leaves me.
The old Bush lullabies and all
The song that glads, yet grieves me.
In bitter joy, in pleasant woe,
The wanderlust doth find me.
To stay I dare not, still to go—
With all thy charms to bind me!
Last night, beneath the silent stars,
Your voice compelled, enthralled me;
To-night a Voice across the bars
From seaward places called me.
Low in my ears the Deep Seas croon:
“Away! ere Fate defy thee!
The Waters silver with the moon
Shall golden tresses tie thee?
“Shall witching lips and throat of white
For evermore proclaim you
A recreant to old delight,
Of open ways that claim you?”
Dear Love of mine, your breath is sweet
As wild red briar roses—
But, oh! the sward beneath the feet,
When Night in Bushland closes!
Dear Heart of mine, if it should be
That your fond charms prove stronger,
What will the Voices say to me
As Summer days grow longer?
Were it not best while Love is young
To break the chain enthralling?
For, oh! the Song the Waters sung!
And, oh! my Bushland calling!