an anthology of australian verse-第22节
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The gates are out of order now；
In storms the 〃riders〃 rattle；
For far across the border now
Our Andy's gone with cattle。
Oh； may the showers in torrents fall；
And all the tanks run over；
And may the grass grow green and tall
In pathways of the drover；
And may good angels send the rain
On desert stretches sandy；
And when the summer comes again
God grant 'twill bring us Andy。
Out Back
The old year went； and the new returned； in the withering weeks of drought；
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned； and the sheds were all cut out；
The publican's words were short and few；
and the publican's looks were black
And the time had come； as the shearer knew； to carry his swag Out Back。
~For time means tucker； and tramp you must；
where the scrubs and plains are wide；
With seldom a track that a man can trust； or a mountain peak to guide；
All day long in the dust and heat when summer is on the track
With stinted stomachs and blistered feet； they carry their swags Out Back。~
He tramped away from the shanty there； when the days were long and hot；
With never a soul to know or care if he died on the track or not。
The poor of the city have friends in woe； no matter how much they lack；
But only God and the swagmen know how a poor man fares Out Back。
He begged his way on the parched Paroo and the Warrego tracks once more；
And lived like a dog； as the swagmen do； till the Western stations shore；
But men were many； and sheds were full； for work in the town was slack
The traveller never got hands in wool； though he tramped for a year Out Back。
In stifling noons when his back was wrung
by its load； and the air seemed dead；
And the water warmed in the bag that hung to his aching arm like lead；
Or in times of flood； when plains were seas；
and the scrubs were cold and black；
He ploughed in mud to his trembling knees； and paid for his sins Out Back。
He blamed himself in the year 〃Too Late〃 in the heaviest hours of life
'Twas little he dreamed that a shearing…mate had care of his home and wife；
There are times when wrongs from your kindred come；
and treacherous tongues attack
When a man is better away from home； and dead to the world； Out Back。
And dirty and careless and old he wore； as his lamp of hope grew dim；
He tramped for years till the swag he bore seemed part of himself to him。
As a bullock drags in the sandy ruts； he followed the dreary track；
With never a thought but to reach the huts when the sun went down Out Back。
It chanced one day； when the north wind blew
in his face like a furnace…breath；
He left the track for a tank he knew 'twas a short…cut to his death；
For the bed of the tank was hard and dry； and crossed with many a crack；
And； oh！ it's a terrible thing to die of thirst in the scrub Out Back。
A drover came； but the fringe of law was eastward many a mile；
He never reported the thing he saw； for it was not worth his while。
The tanks are full and the grass is high in the mulga off the track；
Where the bleaching bones of a white man lie by his mouldering swag Out Back。
~For time means tucker； and tramp they must；
where the plains and scrubs are wide；
With seldom a track that a man can trust； or a mountain peak to guide；
All day long in the flies and heat the men of the outside track
With stinted stomachs and blistered feet must carry their swags Out Back。~
The Star of Australasia
We boast no more of our bloodless flag； that rose from a nation's slime；
Better a shred of a deep…dyed rag from the storms of the olden time。
From grander clouds in our 〃peaceful skies〃 than ever were there before
I tell you the Star of the South shall rise in the lurid clouds of war。
It ever must be while blood is warm and the sons of men increase；
For ever the nations rose in storm； to rot in a deadly peace。
There comes a point that we will not yield； no matter if right or wrong；
And man will fight on the battle…field while passion and pride are strong
So long as he will not kiss the rod； and his stubborn spirit sours；
And the scorn of Nature and curse of God are heavy on peace like ours。
。 。 。 。 。
There are boys out there by the western creeks； who hurry away from school
To climb the sides of the breezy peaks or dive in the shaded pool；
Who'll stick to their guns when the mountains quake
to the tread of a mighty war；
And fight for Right or a Grand Mistake as men never fought before；
When the peaks are scarred and the sea…walls crack
till the furthest hills vibrate；
And the world for a while goes rolling back in a storm of love and hate。
。 。 。 。 。
There are boys to…day in the city slum and the home of wealth and pride
Who'll have one home when the storm is come； and fight for it side by side；
Who'll hold the cliffs 'gainst the armoured hells that batter a coastal town；
Or grimly die in a hail of shells when the walls come crashing down。
And many a pink…white baby girl； the queen of her home to…day；
Shall see the wings of the tempest whirl the mist of our dawn away
Shall live to shudder and stop her ears to the thud of the distant gun；
And know the sorrow that has no tears when a battle is lost and won；
As a mother or wife in the years to come； will kneel； wild…eyed and white；
And pray to God in her darkened home for the 〃men in the fort to…night。〃
。 。 。 。 。
All creeds and trades will have soldiers there give every class its due
And there'll be many a clerk to spare for the pride of the jackeroo。
They'll fight for honour and fight for love； and a few will fight for gold；
For the devil below and for God above； as our fathers fought of old；
And some half…blind with exultant tears； and some stiff…lipped； stern…eyed；
For the pride of a thousand after…years and the old eternal pride；
The soul of the world they will feel and see
in the chase and the grim retreat
They'll know the glory of victory and the grandeur of defeat。
The South will wake to a mighty change ere a hundred years are done
With arsenals west of the mountain range and every spur its gun。
And many a rickety 〃son of a gun〃； on the tides of the future tossed；
Will tell how battles were really won that History says were lost；
Will trace the field with his pipe； and shirk
the facts that are hard to explain；
As grey old mates of the diggings work the old ground over again
How 〃this was our centre； and this a redoubt；
and that was a scrub in the rear；
And this was the point where the guards held out；
and the enemy's lines were here。〃
。 。 。 。 。
And fools； when the fiends of war are out and the city skies aflame；
Will have something better to talk about than an absent woman's shame；
Will have something nobler to do by far than jest at a friend's expense；
Or blacken a name in a public bar or over a backyard fence。
And this you learn from the libelled past；
though its methods were somewhat rude
A nation's born where the shells fall fast； or its lease of life renewed。
We in part atone for the ghoulish strife；
and the crimes of the peace we boast；
And the better part of a people's life in the storm comes uppermost。
The self…same spirit that drives the man to the depths of drink and crime
Will do the deeds in the heroes' van that live till the end of time。
The living death in the lonely bush； the greed of the selfish town；
And even the creed of the outlawed push is chivalry upside down。
'Twill be while ever our blood is hot； while ever the world goes wrong；
The nations rise in a war； to rot in a peace that lasts too long。
And southern nation and southern state； aroused from their dream of ease；
Must sign in the Book of Eternal Fate their stormy histories。
Middleton's Rouseabout
Tall and freckled and sandy；
Face of a country lout；
This was the picture of Andy；
Middleton's Rouseabout。
Type of a coming nation；
In the land of cattle and sheep；
Worked on Middleton's station；
〃Pound a week and his keep。〃
On Middleton's wide dominions
Plied the stockwhip and shears；
Hadn't any opinions；
Hadn't any 〃idears〃。
Swiftly the years went over；
Liquor and drought prevailed；
Middleton went as a drover；
After his station had failed。
Type of a careless nation；
Men who are soon played out；
Middleton was： and his station
Was bought by the Rouseabout。
Flourishing beard and sandy；
Tall and robust and stout；
This is the picture of Andy；
Middleton's Rouseabout。
Now on his own dominions
Works with his overseers；
Hasn't any opinions；
Hasn't any 〃idears〃。
The Vagabond
White handkerchiefs wave from the short black pier
As we glide to the grand old sea
But the song of my heart is for none to hear
If one of them waves for me。
A r
