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C J Dennis - Bendigo
Work rating: Low

A golden maid whose golden voice
   Calls to the northern lands,
Of riches she has had her choice.
Twin treasures to make men rejoice
   Came easy to her hands:
The golden harvest of broad fields,
Or that dark gift of sudden yields
   Won from her golden sands.
 
But men have scorned her worthier pride
   In rich and fruitful soil;
And, spreading desolation wide,
Ranged all her verdant countryside
   To ravage and despoil.
And now grey wastes of tortured earth
Await the glory of rebirth
   Thro` nature`s patient toil.
 
She has the wish, she has the will
   To gather beauty round.
Though gold`s fierce lure stays with her still,
She lives to plan and strive until
   Springs from this barren ground
Earth`s only treasure, scorned of yore,
And smiling verdure clothes once more
   Full many a bare, bleak mound.
 
She guards the gateway of the north --
   The broad lands of the sun.
Hospitably her hand goes forth,
Eager to vindicate the worth
   Of happier tasks begun,
And in gay gardens to express
A newer urge to loveliness
   And kinder virtues won.
 
A virile lass, in no wise strange,
   Of true Australian breed:
Where drab days into sunlight charge
Across the Great Dividing Range
   She scatters now the seed
That shall bring yields a thousandfold
When gardens count for more than gold
   And peace outvalues greed.
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