SYDNEY COVE by Nuri Rosegg

The native shore in Shakespeare’s land we left

With hearts as broken as teacups can be.

Tho’ salty air repair’d the hearts of theft:

Eight months long! Then we stood in front of thee,

So ripe for an intense romance. A cry

Of longing drifted gently through the air - -

In thy hands bridal bouquet saying, ay.

Thy rocky wedding-dress; so fine and fair.

Oh, our Love liv’d on, thine pass’d away.

Thy sandstone flora: an eye-catching gem,

Tho’ the wet desert starv’d us day by day.

Thy tempest punch’d the soil to viscid phlegm.

Although thou handed out hard lives we stay’d.

Sun-colour’d stone (brick after brick) we laid

For, once in thy blue eyes a ghost unfurl’d:

A harbour city, greatest in the world!

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