. Selected poems; . hite,The scattered quartz that glistened Like diamonds in light; 18 THE ROARING DAYS The azure line of ridges, The bush of darkest green,The little homes of calico That dotted all the flat straw hats, with ribands. That old engravings show—The dress that still reminds us Of sailors, long ago. I hear the fall of timber From distant flats and pealing of the anvils As clear as little rattle of the cradle, The clack of flutter of the crimson flags Above the golden holes. Ah, then their hearts were bolder. And if Dame Fortune frow
. Selected poems; . hite,The scattered quartz that glistened Like diamonds in light; 18 THE ROARING DAYS The azure line of ridges, The bush of darkest green,The little homes of calico That dotted all the flat straw hats, with ribands. That old engravings show—The dress that still reminds us Of sailors, long ago. I hear the fall of timber From distant flats and pealing of the anvils As clear as little rattle of the cradle, The clack of flutter of the crimson flags Above the golden holes. Ah, then their hearts were bolder. And if Dame Fortune frownedTheir swags theyd lightly shoulder And tramp to other they were lion-hearted Who gave our country birth!Stout sons, of stoutest fathers born, From all the lands on earth! Those golden days are vanished. And altered is the scene;The diggings are deserted. The camping-grounds are green;The flaunting flag of progress Is in, the West unfurled,The mighty Bush with iron rails Is tethered to the world. 1889. The Vagabond HITE handkerchiefs wave from the shortblack pierAs we glide to the grand old sea—But the song of my heart is for none to hear If none of them waves for roving, roaming life is mine,Ever by field or flood—For not far back in my fathers lineWas a dash of the Gipsy blood. Flax and tussock and fern, Gum and mtdga and sand,Reef and palm—btit my fancies turn Ever away from land;Strange wild cities in ancient state. Range and river and tree,Snow and ice. But my star of fate Is ever across the sea. A god-like ride on a thundering sea. When all but the stars are blind—A desperate race from Eternity With a gale-and-a-half jovial spree in the cabin at night, A song on the rolling deck,A lark ashore with the ships in sight. Till—a wreck goes down with a wreck. 20 THE VAGABOND A smoke and a yarn on the deck by day, When life is a waking dream,And care and trouble so far away That out of your life they roving spirit in sympathy, Who ha
Size: 1591px × 1570px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauth, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidcu31924013249515
