Henry Lawson

Jack Cornstalk As A Poet

Not from the seas does he draw inspiration, Not from the rivers that croon on their bars; But a wide, a world-old desolation – On a dead land alone with the stars. The long hot day gone over, And starlight come again; And I, weary rover, Lie camped on One Tree Plain. My saddle for a pillow, I lie beneath the tree, That softens to a willow, In the moonlight over me. I dream that I remember A dim and distant day, Beyond yon misty timber, In the Home-world far away.

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