. Selected poems; . e times were tight We starved in Australian scrubs;We froze together in parks at night. And laughed together in I often hear a laugh like his From a sense of humour catch a glimpse in a passing phiz Of his broad, good-humoured grin. And I had a love—twas a love to prize— But I never went back again . .I have seen the light of her kind grey eyes In many a face since then. 22 THE VAGABOND The sailors say twill be rough to-night, As they fasten the hatches down;The south is black, and the bar is white, And the drifting smoke is gold has gone from th
. Selected poems; . e times were tight We starved in Australian scrubs;We froze together in parks at night. And laughed together in I often hear a laugh like his From a sense of humour catch a glimpse in a passing phiz Of his broad, good-humoured grin. And I had a love—twas a love to prize— But I never went back again . .I have seen the light of her kind grey eyes In many a face since then. 22 THE VAGABOND The sailors say twill be rough to-night, As they fasten the hatches down;The south is black, and the bar is white, And the drifting smoke is gold has gone from the western haze, The sea-birds circle and swarm—But we shall have plenty of sunny days. And little enough of storm. The hill is hiding the short black pier, As the last white signals seen;The points run in, and the houses veer. And the great bluff stands darkness swallows each far white speck On many a wharf and quay;The night comes down on a restless deck,— Grim cliffs—and—The Open Sea! 1895. Since Then MET Jack Ellis in town to-day— Jack Ellis—my old mate, years ago, from the Castlereagh,We carried our swags together awayTo the Never-Again, Out Back. But times have altered since those old days, And the times have changed the , well! theres little to blame or praise—Jack Ellis and I have tramped long waysOn different tracks since then. His hat was battered, his coat was toes of his boots were the pride was his! It was I felt mean—I wished that my collar was not so clean,Nor the clothes I wore so new. He saw me first, and he knew twas I— The holiday swell he have we no faith in each other? Ah, why?—He made as though he would pass me by, For he thought that I might forget. He ought to have known me better than that, By the tracks we tramped far out—The sweltering scrub and the blazing flat,When the heat came down through each old felt hatIn the hell-born western drought. 24 SINCE THEN He took my han
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