Bourke in the early nineties,
Back in ninety-one and two —
Long Tom Hall and his villains,
Little Billy Woods and you.

Saddle-tweed suit and soft shirt —
Standing six-foot three —
You long, slow, kindly smiling
Slab of Democracy!

Donald! Do you remember,
Back in the Dawn of Day,
How we fought with our faces seaward
From Blackall, Bourke and Hay?

That bothered you, didn't it?
That prevented you from entering into strange adventures,
Especially with women ...

After all, however, it is not so bad:
If that be the price of experience
Then I must pay it:
For to be laughed at, and to play the fool
Is cheap, by all odds, in exchange for the gift of life.

Fair that your wisedome may to men appeare,
Rather another mans opinions heare,
And rest your selfe you will then on your owne;
Neverthelesse you'r not so carelesse growne,
Carelesse to thinke what may breed good event.
In other mens conceits to rest content,
So doe not you, for a sharp wit you have,

Conceits to try, which sordid are, which grave,
On which as solid counsell to rely;
Then which, but as a fond conceit to fly.
Thus nether on your owne, or others minde,
In flashie fond Conceits at all you binde;

What is that which slinks and sidles in the sunlight and the gloom,
With a hand that pains its features while the other claws a broom?
Dirt and rags and always hunger — ignorance and misery;
With one touch of human kinship: " he was werry kind to me. "
Jennie Lee as " Jo " ! She passes, bowing primly on the stair
In the girlish mid-Victorian dress our mothers used to wear.

Jennie Lee as " Jo " ! She passes, white-haired, from this worldly stage;
G. V. Brooke had gone before her, hard-up in a golden age,

There's fox creeps creeps
on yon Qi dam:
heart the grief oh!
The childe lacks robe.

There's fox creeps creeps
on yon Qi ford:
heart the grief oh!
The childe lacks belt.

There's fox creeps creeps
on yon Qi side:
heart the grief oh!
The childe lacks costume.

Now the day dies, and the workers trudge homeward:
They pass my window:
I see a few lights twinkling in the tall buildings, as if the evening star were reflected ...
What hands are emptying the glowing urn of peace on the dark-wayed city?

My friend and I sat smoking in the little room:
Lightly we took the ball of the Earth and tossed it in talk to one another:
Unwitting the generation about us was held up to our probing:
Our hearts and minds were glowing urns of unthinkable riches which we poured for each other.

Ever an Herb though but a little seede,
Doth vegetably grow apace indeed;
With sappe of heavenly dew, you watred well,
A tree have grown, in vertues that excell,
Rendring you a still growing nerethelesse,
Duly till you attaine true blessednesse.

Herbs lively flourishing will still be gree
Ever so are your noble vertues seene:
Rightly doth greene, they say, yeeld to the eye
Best colour'd, that doth help the sight thereby:
Ever your vertues lend a sweet delight,
Right vertuous Sir, unto that happy sight,

Come, sing with holy gladness,
High alleluiahs sing!
Lift up your hearts and voices
With new awakened Spring.
Sing, youths and gentle maidens,
Your hymn of praise to-day,
With old men and with children,
In sweet according lay.

The time of Resurrection,
Earth sings it all abroad,—
The Passover of gladness,
The Passover of God!
The sign of life eternal
Is writ on earth and sky,—
The hope forever vernal,
Of life the victory.

Now let the heavens be joyful,
The seas their bright waves swell;

With sparkling fervour, who the vertues see,
Innated (Sir) that doe remaine in thee,
Lively declaring your nobilitie,
Lustreth your vertues by your dignitie;
In which your vertues likewise act their part,
And luster forth your honour, honour'd heart,
Must needs confesse you Lim a Ruby right,

Having so pretious and true delight,
Ever on vertue the true Ruby rare,
Richly whereby your vertues dare compare,
Berokening a brave heart, that hath not mixed,
Extravagant vaine thoughts, but by death fixed.

'Twas not for Beer we were fighting; it was not Christ we opposed;
'Twould be well for many, God help us! if all the hotels were closed:
Not the Churches all round, nor the victims of a great but an honest mistake —
I have friends amongst the parsons whose hands 'twere an honour to take.

Big men for the most part, broad minded, and ranking with Nature's kings,
With the gentleness, truth, and the courage that belong to all big things;
Men who will stand up and speak out in spite of their brothers' groans —