THE WATTLE BLOOMS
Old England has its famous Rose,
The Queen of Beauty crowned;
Good Scotland has its purple bloom
Of Thistle far renowned,
Brave Ireland has its Shamrock green
With tri-lobed leaf so fair,
Which gives the Emerald tale its name,
And springs up everywhere.
But what has fair Australia,
This land of wool and gold,
To charm the eye, delight the heart,
Of people young and old?
The choice of every native-born,
From back blocks to the sea,
From East to West, from North to South,
Is the golden Wattle tree.
Its blossoms cluster every bough,
Like grapes, upon a vine,
And each Australian calls aloud,
“This glorious tree is mine”.
Let England boast her Rose so red,
Scotland her Thistle blue,
Ireland its Shamrock leaf so green,
The Wattle blooms for you.
— excerpt from poem by J.J. Burston
[‘The Prahan Telegraph’, 6 August 1904]