Classic Poem

Take me back to Golden Gully,
Had I wings, there would I fly,
For I'm weary of the hurry
Of the cold world passing by.
Gully deep and green and golden,
Haunt of bee, and home of fern,
Back to thee and days now olden
Does my yearning spirit turn.

And I try to waken music
From the depths of mem'ry's springs,
But my flagging fingers ever
Falter on the silent strings.
I have climbed hope's elevation
And have sought in vain to trace
Aught but vasty desolation
In its drear and empty space.

And I long to pass an hour
Where the yellow wattles blow,
Where each piney spur and bower
And each deep blue spring I know.
Take me back to Golden Gully,
'Neath its opalescent sky
I'll not weary of the hurry
Of the white clouds passing by.