"Like clouds o'er the South are the nations who reign
On fair islands that we would command;
But clouds that are darker and denser than these
Have sailed from an Isle in the Northern Seas
BY RIGHT of birth in southern land I send my warning forth.
I see my country ruined by the wrongs that damned the North.
And shall I stand with fireless eyes and still and silent mouth
NOT to the sober and staid,
Leading a quiet life,
But to men whose paths are laid
Ever through storm and strife—
A BLANKET low and leaden,
Though rent across the west,
Whose darkness seems to deaden
The brightest and the best;
Across the stony ridges,
Across the rolling plain,
Young Harry Dale, the drover,
Comes riding home again.
THEY CHEERED him from the wharf—it was a glorious day:
His hand went to his scarf—his thoughts were far away.
Oh, he was “Jolly Good”, they sang it long and loud—
They'd parted but a year before—she never thought he’d come,
She stammer’d, blushed, held out her hand, and called
I’ve followed all my tracks and ways,from old bark school to Leicester Square,
I’ve been right back to boyhood’s days, and found no light or pleasure there.