Other chance when I am gone

May restore the battle-call,
Bravely lead the good cause on
Fighting in the which I fall.
God may quicken some true soul
Here to take my place below
In the heroes' muster roll-
I am weary, let me go.

Shield and buckler, hang them up,
Drape the standards on the wall,
I have drained the mortal cup
To the finish, dregs and all ;
When our work is done, 't is best,
Brother, best that we should go-
I am weary, let me rest,

I am weary, lay me low.

THE DOMINION OF AUSTRALIA

(A FORECAST)

SHE is not yet, but he whose ear Thrills to that finer atmosphere

Where footfalls of appointed things,
Reverberant of days to be,

Are heard in forecast echoings,

Like wave-beats from a viewless sea Hears in the voiceful tremors of the sky Auroral heralds whispering "She is nigh."

The silver fountains sing forever. Far
Above dim ghosts of waters in the caves,
The royal robe of morning on thy head
Abides forever! Evermore the wind
Is thy august companion; and thy peers
Are cloud, and thunder, and the face sublime
Of blue mid-heaven! On thy awful brow
Is Deity; and in that voice of thine
There is the great imperial utterance
Of God forever; and thy feet are set
Where evermore, through all the days and
years,

There rolls the grand hymn of the deathless

wave.

COOGEE

SING the song of wave-worn Coogee, Coogee in the distance white,

With its jags and points disrupted, gaps and fractures fringed with light; Haunt of gledes, and restless plovers of the melancholy wail,

Ever lending deeper pathos to the melancholy gale.

There, my brothers, down the fissures, chasms deep and wan and wild, Grows the sea-bloom, one that blushes like a shrinking, fair, blind child; And amongst the oozing forelands many a glad green rock-vine runs, Getting ease on earthy ledges, sheltered from December suns.

Often, when a gusty morning, rising cold and gray and strange,

Lifts its face from watery spaces, vistas full with cloudy change, Bearing up a gloomy burden which anon begins to wane,

Fading in the sudden shadow of a dark determined rain,

Do I seek an eastern window, so to watch

the breakers beat

Round the steadfast crags of Coogee, dim with drifts of driving sleet: Hearing hollow mournful noises sweeping down a solemn shore,

While the grim sea-caves are tideless, and the storm strives at their core.

Often when the floating vapors fill the silent autumn leas,

Dreaming memories fall like moonlight over silent sleeping seas,

Friend of mine beyond the waters, here and there these perished days Haunt me with their sweet dead faces and their old divided ways.

You that helped and you that loved me, take this song, and when you read Let the lost things come about you, set your thoughts, and hear and heed. Time has laid his burden on us we who wear our manhood now, We would be the boys we have been, free of heart and bright of brow,

Be the boys for just an hour, with the splendor and the speech Of thy lights and thunders, Coogee, flying up thy gleaming beach.

Heart's desire and heart's division! who would come and say to me,

With the eyes of far-off friendship, "You are as you used to be ?" Something glad and good has left me here with sickening discontent, Tired of looking, neither knowing what it was or where it went.

So it is this sight of Coogee, shining in the morning dew,

Sets me stumbling through dim summers once on fire with youth and youSummers pale as southern evenings when the year has lost its power And the wasted face of April weeps above the withered flower.

Not that seasons bring no solace, not that time lacks light and rest,

But the old things were the dearest, and the old loves seem the best. We that start at songs familiar, we that tremble at a tone

Floating down the ways of music, like a sigh of sweetness flown,