A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Queenslanders
QUEENSLANDERS
LEAN brown lords of the Brisbane beaches,
Lithe-limbed kings of the Culgoa bends,
Princes that ride where the Roper reaches,
Captains that camp where the grey Gulf ends—
Never such goodly men together
Marched since the kingdoms first made war;
Nothing so proud as the Emu Feather
Waved in an English wind before!
Ardour and faith of those keen brown faces!
Challenge and strength of those big brown hands!
Eyes that have flashed upon wide-flung spaces!
Chins that have conquered in fierce far lands!—
Flood could not daunt them, Drought could not break them;
Deep in their hearts is their sun's own fire;
Blood of thine own blood, England, take them!
These are the swords of thy soul's desire!