
Dorothea Mackellar was an influential Australian poet and fiction writer, best known for her evocative poem "My Country," which captures the essence of the Australian landscape and spirit. Born in New South Wales, she was deeply influenced by her experiences in the Australian bush, which inspired her vivid imagery and themes of nature. Mackellar's work often reflected her love for her homeland, and her poetry resonated with the Australian identity, particularly during times of national reflection and pride. "My Country," written in 1908, remains one of the most celebrated pieces of Australian literature, particularly for its iconic second stanza that describes the beauty and challenges of the Australian environment. Mackellar's contributions extended beyond poetry; she also wrote novels and short stories, showcasing her versatility as a writer. Her literary significance lies not only in her ability to articulate the Australian experience but also in her role as a pioneering female voice in a predominantly male literary landscape. Mackellar's legacy endures, as her works continue to be studied and cherished for their lyrical beauty and nationalistic fervor.
“I love a sunburnt country, A land of sweeping plains, Of ragged mountain ranges, Of droughts and flooding rains. I love her far horizons, I love her jewel-sea, Her beauty and her terror – The wide brown land for me!”
“I love a sunburnt country" "The love of field and coppice, Of green and shaded lanes. Of ordered woods and gardens Is running in your veins, Strong love of grey-blue distance Brown streams and soft, dim skies I know but cannot share it, My love is otherwise. I love a sunburnt country, A land of sweeping plains, Of ragged mountain ranges, Of drought and flooding rains. I love her far horizons, I love her jewel-sea, Her beauty and her terror – The wide brown land for me! A stark white ring-barked forest All tragic to the moon, The sapphire-misted mountains, The hot gold hush of noon. Green tangle of the brushes, Where lithe lianas coil, And orchids deck the tree-tops And ferns the warm dark soil. Core of my heart, my country! Her pitiless blue sky, When sick at heart, around us We see the cattle die – But then the grey clouds gather, And we can bless again The drumming of an army, The steady, soaking rain. Core of my heart, my country! Land of the Rainbow Gold, For flood and fire and famine, She pays us back threefold – Over the thirsty paddocks, Watch, after many days, The filmy veil of greenness That thickens as we gaze.”
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