Bells along the Condamine,
Sabbath chimes falling
Like solemn benediction from the church of Goombi hill.
Bells along the Condamine
Echoing and calling:
'Pomp is less than Charity and Fortune than Goodwill.'
Sun rays on the Condamine
Autumn colours showing:
April-green of lucerne and the yellowing of hay.
Firelies on the melon-vine-
Fairy-candles glowing
On royal coats of kingfishers who guard the waterway.
Willows by the Condamine
Pendant in the shade;
Clover in the hollows and lambs with moon-wide eyes.
Gums about the Condamine
And all the wealth of jade:
Beauty proud yet delicate as wings of butterflies.
Peace beside the Condamine,
Fruits of labour won:
Time ennobling Age with a grace and dignity;
Secrets of the mellowed wine
Passing son to son:
Faith and hope and honour and the will to keep them free.
Evening bells at Condamine,
Herds are wending home;
Furrowed fields expectant as the seedlings faintly creep.
Dusk is on the border line,
Bees within the comb,
And all the heart of Condamine goes down the tide of sleep.
Frank Francis (1944)