Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake

(26 March 1866 – May 1892 / Sydney / Australia)

Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake Poems

1. 'Twixt The Wings Of The Yard 1/1/2004
2. At The "J. C." 1/1/2004
3. Skeeta ( An Old Servant's Tale ) 1/1/2004
4. The Demon Snow-Shoes (A Legend Of Kiandra) 1/1/2004
5. The Digger's Song 1/1/2004
6. How Babs Malone Cut Down The Field 1/1/2004
7. Jack Corrigan 1/1/2004
8. Jack's Last Muster 1/1/2004
9. Kitty Mccrae - A Galloping Rhyme 1/1/2004
10. Our Visitor 1/1/2004
11. A Memory 1/1/2004
12. A Song 1/1/2004
13. Babs Malone 4/9/2010
14. From The Far West 4/9/2010
15. Kelly's Conversion 4/9/2010
16. The Box-Tree's Love 4/9/2010
17. To A Hatpeg 4/9/2010
18. The Babes In The Bush 4/9/2010
19. Josephus Riley 4/9/2010
20. An Allegory 1/1/2004
21. Jimmy Wood 1/1/2004
22. At Devlin's Siding 1/1/2004
23. How Polly Paid For Her Keep 1/1/2004
24. A Bushman's Love 1/1/2004
25. On The Boundary 1/1/2004
26. Where The Dead Men Lie 1/1/2004
27. A Wayside Queen 4/9/2010
28. An Easter Rhyme 4/9/2010
29. Fogarty's Gin 4/9/2010
30. A Vision Out West 4/9/2010
31. A Song From A Sandhill 4/9/2010
32. Featherstonhaugh 1/1/2004
33. Jim's Whip 1/1/2004
34. On The Range 1/1/2004
35. A Valentine 4/9/2010
36. Desiree 4/9/2010
37. Down The River 1/1/2004

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Best Poem of Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake

Down The River

Hark, the sound of it drawing nearer,
Clink of hobble and brazen bell;
Mark the passage of stalwart shearer,
Bidding Monaro soil farewell.

Where is he making for? Down the river,
Down the river with eager tread;
Where is he making for? Down the river,
Down the river to seek a 'shed'.

Where is his dwelling on old Monaro?
Buckley's Crossing, or Jindaboine?
Dry Plain is it, or sweet Bolaira?
P'raps 'tis near where the rivers join
Where is he making for? Down the river.
When, oh when, will he turn him back?
Soft sighs follow him down the ...

Read the full of Down The River


Brookong station lay half-asleep
Dozed in the waning western glare
('Twas before the run had stocked with sheep
And only cattle depastured there)
As the Bluccap mob reined up at the door
And loudly saluted Featherstonhaugh.

"My saintly preacher," the leader cried,
"I stand no nonsense, as you're aware,

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