W. C. Wentworth

Forget that it was I
who first saw the vision
of this land as a nation;
Forget that I was the lad who tagged along
with mountain-climbing Blaxland and Lawson
when their first glimpse of the western plains
opened the way for a nation to break free
from convict chains.

Forget all this, forget too
that I, one of your first white native-born,
spat in the teeth of oppression,
and that mine was the first dream
of a continent-wide oneness;
Remember only that it was I
who wished to saddle you
with a pack of hereditary lords,
Remember this, and in place of tears,
see that your history books
drop on my grave their superior sneers.

But never forget oh Commonwealth
that if your soil blossoms with greatness
the harvest will spring
from the first day of my dreams.