The Love Of Freedom Has Been The

The Tides Are In Our Veins.

If You Should Look For This Place After A Handful Of Lifetimes: Perhaps Of My Planted Forest A Few May Stand Yet, Dark-leaved Australians Or The Coast Cypress, Haggard With Storm-drift; But Fire And The Axe Are Devils. Look For Foundations Of Sea-worn Granite, My Fingers Had The Art To Make Stone Love Stone, You Will Find Some Remnant.

Imagination, The Traitor Of The Mind, Has Taken My Solitude And Slain It.

This Wild Swan Of A World Is No Hunter's Game.

Hear The Music, The Thunder Of The Wings. Love The Wild Swan.