If it ain't all "golden sunshine" where the "wattle branches wave", Well, it ain't all damp and dismal, and it ain't all "lonely grave".
"Saltbush Bill, J.P., and Other Verses" by A. B. Paterson
The time was early December, and the golden wattle in full bloom.
"The Lost Valley" by J. M. Walsh
And taking his lasts, his awls, and his golden leaf, he left the wattle hut and went to tell the villagers.
"Granny's Wonderful Chair" by Frances Browne
Behind the wattled hedges the fruit-trees were reddening and all around the trees were red or golden.
"The House with the Mezzanine and Other Stories" by Anton Tchekoff
The baby was blinking happily up at a great fat golden beetle that was making a lazy way up the wattle.
"The Coo-ee Reciter" by Various
No day a-drip with golden rain,
No heat with drench of wattle scent
Can touch the heart of me again
But with that young, sweet wonder blent.
"The Living Picture" by Edward Dyson
Titania, Niamh, or that Morgan fay
Our simpler eyes in. Sicily to-day
Catch at her sorcery-to YOU, whose breath
To a rippling rapture stirs the pool of Death,
I bring this coronal of rose and rue,
With golden wattle twined-and she-oak too.
"Alma Venus! [Excerpt]" by Bernard O Dowd
"We buried 'im," sez Trent, "down by the beach.
We put mimosa on the mound uv sand
Above 'im. 'Twus the nearest thing in reach
To golden wattle uv 'is native land.
But never wus the fairest wattle wreath
More golden than the 'eart uv 'im beneath."
"'A Gallant Gentleman'" by C J Dennis