Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918.

102. A Leader

THOUGH your eyes with tears were blind,

Pain upon the path you trod:

Well we knew, the hosts behind,

Voice and shining of a god.

For your darkness was our day:

Signal fires, your pains untold

Lit us on our wandering way

To the mystic heart of gold.

Naught we knew of the high land,

Beauty burning in its spheres;

Sorrow we could understand

And the mystery told in tears.