In the Days When the World Was Wide [34]
who did it, and he sealed the paper's doom, Though we gave him ads. for nothing when the STAR began to boom: 'Twas a paltry bill for tucker, and the crawling, sneaking clown Sold the debt for twice its value to the men who hated Brown.
I was digging up the river, and I swam the flooded bend With a little cash and comfort for my literary friend. Brown was sitting sad and lonely with his head bowed in despair, While a single tallow candle threw a flicker on his hair, And the gusty wind that whistled through the crannies of the door Stirred the scattered files of paper that were lying on the floor. Charlie took my hand in silence -- and by-and-by he said: `Tom, old mate, we did our damnedest, but the brave old STAR is dead.'
. . . . .
Then he stood up on a sudden, with a face as pale as death, And he gripped my hand a moment, while he seemed to fight for breath: `Tom, old friend,' he said, `I'm going, and I'm ready to -- to start, For I know that there is something -- something crooked with my heart. Tom, my first child died. I loved her even better than the pen -- Tom -- and while the STAR was dying, why, I felt like I did THEN.
. . . . .
Listen! Like the distant thunder of the rollers on the bar -- Listen, Tom! I hear the -- diggers -- shouting: `Bully for the STAR!''
After All
The brooding ghosts of Australian night have gone from the bush and town; My spirit revives in the morning breeze, though it died when the sun went down; The river is high and the stream is strong, and the grass is green and tall, And I fain would think that this world of ours is a good world after all.
The light of passion in dreamy eyes, and a page of truth well read, The glorious thrill in a heart grown cold of the spirit I thought was dead, A song that goes to a comrade's heart, and a tear of pride let fall -- And my soul is strong! and the world to me is a grand world after all!
Let our enemies go by their old dull tracks, and theirs be the fault or shame (The man is bitter against the world who has only himself to blame); Let the darkest side of the past be dark, and only the good recall; For I must believe that the world, my dear, is a kind world after all.
It well may be that I saw too plain, and it may be I was blind; But I'll keep my face to the dawning light, though the devil may stand behind! Though the devil may stand behind my back, I'll not see his shadow fall, But read the signs in the morning stars of a good world after all.
Rest, for your eyes are weary, girl -- you have driven the worst away -- The ghost of the man that I might have been is gone from my heart to-day; We'll live for life and the best it brings till our twilight shadows fall; My heart grows brave, and the world, my girl, is a good world after all.
Marshall's Mate
You almost heard the surface bake, and saw the gum-leaves turn -- You could have watched the grass scorch brown had there been grass to burn. In such a drought the strongest heart might well grow faint and weak -- 'Twould frighten Satan to his home -- not far from Dingo Creek.
The tanks went dry on Ninety Mile, as tanks go dry out back, The Half-Way Spring had failed at last when Marshall missed the track; Beneath a dead tree on the plain we saw a pack-horse reel -- Too blind to see there was no shade, and too done-up to feel. And charcoaled on the canvas bag (`twas written pretty clear) We read the message Marshall wrote. It said: `I'm taken queer -- I'm somewhere off of Deadman's Track, half-blind and nearly dead; Find Crowbar, get him sobered up, and follow back,' it said.
`Let Mitchell go to Bandicoot. You'll find him there,' said Mack. `I'll start the chaps from Starving Steers, and take the dry-holes back.' We tramped till dark, and tried to track the pack-horse on the sands, And just at daylight Crowbar came with Milroy's station hands. His cheeks were drawn, his face was white, but he was sober then -- In times of trouble, fire, and flood, 'twas Crowbar led the men. `Spread out as widely
I was digging up the river, and I swam the flooded bend With a little cash and comfort for my literary friend. Brown was sitting sad and lonely with his head bowed in despair, While a single tallow candle threw a flicker on his hair, And the gusty wind that whistled through the crannies of the door Stirred the scattered files of paper that were lying on the floor. Charlie took my hand in silence -- and by-and-by he said: `Tom, old mate, we did our damnedest, but the brave old STAR is dead.'
. . . . .
Then he stood up on a sudden, with a face as pale as death, And he gripped my hand a moment, while he seemed to fight for breath: `Tom, old friend,' he said, `I'm going, and I'm ready to -- to start, For I know that there is something -- something crooked with my heart. Tom, my first child died. I loved her even better than the pen -- Tom -- and while the STAR was dying, why, I felt like I did THEN.
. . . . .
Listen! Like the distant thunder of the rollers on the bar -- Listen, Tom! I hear the -- diggers -- shouting: `Bully for the STAR!''
After All
The brooding ghosts of Australian night have gone from the bush and town; My spirit revives in the morning breeze, though it died when the sun went down; The river is high and the stream is strong, and the grass is green and tall, And I fain would think that this world of ours is a good world after all.
The light of passion in dreamy eyes, and a page of truth well read, The glorious thrill in a heart grown cold of the spirit I thought was dead, A song that goes to a comrade's heart, and a tear of pride let fall -- And my soul is strong! and the world to me is a grand world after all!
Let our enemies go by their old dull tracks, and theirs be the fault or shame (The man is bitter against the world who has only himself to blame); Let the darkest side of the past be dark, and only the good recall; For I must believe that the world, my dear, is a kind world after all.
It well may be that I saw too plain, and it may be I was blind; But I'll keep my face to the dawning light, though the devil may stand behind! Though the devil may stand behind my back, I'll not see his shadow fall, But read the signs in the morning stars of a good world after all.
Rest, for your eyes are weary, girl -- you have driven the worst away -- The ghost of the man that I might have been is gone from my heart to-day; We'll live for life and the best it brings till our twilight shadows fall; My heart grows brave, and the world, my girl, is a good world after all.
Marshall's Mate
You almost heard the surface bake, and saw the gum-leaves turn -- You could have watched the grass scorch brown had there been grass to burn. In such a drought the strongest heart might well grow faint and weak -- 'Twould frighten Satan to his home -- not far from Dingo Creek.
The tanks went dry on Ninety Mile, as tanks go dry out back, The Half-Way Spring had failed at last when Marshall missed the track; Beneath a dead tree on the plain we saw a pack-horse reel -- Too blind to see there was no shade, and too done-up to feel. And charcoaled on the canvas bag (`twas written pretty clear) We read the message Marshall wrote. It said: `I'm taken queer -- I'm somewhere off of Deadman's Track, half-blind and nearly dead; Find Crowbar, get him sobered up, and follow back,' it said.
`Let Mitchell go to Bandicoot. You'll find him there,' said Mack. `I'll start the chaps from Starving Steers, and take the dry-holes back.' We tramped till dark, and tried to track the pack-horse on the sands, And just at daylight Crowbar came with Milroy's station hands. His cheeks were drawn, his face was white, but he was sober then -- In times of trouble, fire, and flood, 'twas Crowbar led the men. `Spread out as widely