Not sweeter to the storm-tossed mariner 
   Is glimpse of home, where wife and children wait 
   To welcome him with kisses at the gate, 
Than to the town-worn man the breezy stir 
   Of mountain winds on rugged pathless heights: 
   His long-pent soul drinks in the deep delights 
That Nature hath in store. The sun-kissed bay 
   Gleams thro' the grand old gnarled gum-tree boughs 
Like burnished brass; the strong-winged bird of prey 
Sweeps by, upon his lonely vengeful way -- 
   While over all, like breath of holy vows, 
   The sweet airs blow, and the high-vaulted sky 
Looks down in pity this fair Summer day 
   On all poor earth-born creatures doomed to die.