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Long time beside the squatter's gate A great grey Box-Tree, early, late, Or shine or rain, in silence there Had stood and watched the seasons fare: Had seen the wind upon the plain Caress the amber ears of grain; The river burst its banks and come Far past its belt of mighty gum: Had seen the scarlet months of drought Scourging the land with fiery knout; And seasons ill and seasons good Had alternated as they would. The years were born, had grown and gone, While suns had set and suns had shone; Fierce flames had swept; chill waters drenched;— That sturdy yeoman never blenched. 39