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A Bush Poet

Australian poetry

By John DenneyPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
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Henry Lawson (circa 1917)

While walking with the human tide

I saw a face. A bewildered face.

A pallid face that wore no pride

walking slow and battling on

I thought I'd seen that face before

in a different time, with words of rhyme

that hold little meaning any more

In the past he battled on

He spoke of mateship, droughts and flood

faces in the street, the weary tramp of feet

of how he'd change it if he could

for us he battled on

Do you think that I do not know

of how a man can love, with a pure heart above

true love's a seed we sew

in love he battled on

The battle's over. He's gone from the crowd

no more no more hills to climb

no more pubs to find

So glad he battled on

surreal poetry
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