Henry Lawson (17 June 1867 – 2 September 1922 / Grenfell, New South Wales)
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On The Night Train
Have you seen the bush by moonlight, from the train, go running by?
Blackened log and stump and sapling, ghostly trees all dead and dry;
Here a patch of glassy water; there a glimpse of mystic sky?
Have you heard the still voice calling – yet so warm, and yet so cold:
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Hits & posts of the poem: On The Night Train
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