An Imperial Reply

'Tis glorious, when the thing to do Is at the supreme instant done! We count your first fore-running few A thousand men for every one! For this true stroke of statesmanship— The best Australian poem yet— Old England gives your hand the grip, And binds you with a coronet, In which the gold o' the Wattle glows With Shamrock, Thistle, and the Rose.

They talked of England growing old, They said she spoke with feeble voice; But hear the virile answer rolled Across the world! Behold her Boys Come back to her full-statured Men, To make four-square her fighting ranks. She feels her youth renewed again, With heart too full for aught but "Thanks!" And now the gold o' the Wattle glows With Shamrock, Thistle, and the Rose.

"My Boys have come of age to-day," The proud old mother smiling said. "They write a brand-new page to-day, By far-off futures to be read!" Throughout all lands of British blood, This stroke hath kindled such a glow; The Federal links of Brotherhood Are clasped and welded at a blow. And aye the gold o' the Wattle glows With Shamrock, Thistle, and the Rose.