I am not very patient, Yet patient I must be With him beside my pillow And the babe upon my knee. [...] Strange that I was given Thoughts that soar t… - Mary Gilmore

Moorangoo, the dove, in her high place mourned,
And Mulloka, the Water Spirit, turned
In his shade as he heard her weep,
Sad as the lone that cries in his sleep
At the sound of the gun,
Asking for pity where pity was none.

I have no thunder in my words, Thunder is much too high;
But I can see as far as birds, And feel the wind go by.And I can follow through the grass The darling-breasted quail;
For, though things great in splendour mass, I choose the lesser grail.

"I'm old
Botany Bay;
Stiff in the joints,
Little to say.I am he
Who paved the way,
That you might walk
At your ease to-day;
[...]
I split the rock;
I felled the tree:
The nation was —
Because of me!"Old Taking the sun
From day to day. ...
Shame on the mouth
That would deny
The knotted hands
That set us high!