Page:Reuben and other poems.pdf/85



to you, gully and paddock and peak, And you, lonely old wharé aside of the creek! Lonely and silent, you’ll see me no more, For I’ve finished with farming: I’m off to the war.

I have scored my last tally, I’ve done my last dip, And, thank God, there’s no crutching aboard of a ship. No more of the yards and the race and the pen, For I’m going—I’m going to live among men!

Who next on my stretcher his blanket will spread, And curse this old oven for burning his bread? Poor beggar! he’ll stare at that map till he’s sick of it, Here—while, hurrah! I shall be in the thick of it.