Henry Lawson

(17 June 1867 – 2 September 1922 / Grenfell, New South Wales)

I'Ll Tell You What You Wanderers - Poem by Henry Lawson

I'll tell you what you wanderers, who drift from town to town;
Don't look into a good girl's eyes, until you've settled down.
It's hard to go away alone and leave old chums behind-
It's hard to travel steerage when your tastes are more refined-
To reach a place when times are bad, and to be standing there,
No money in your pocket nor a decent rag to wear.
But be forced from that fond clasp, from that last clinging kiss-
By poverty! There is on earth no harder thing than this.


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Read poems about / on: poverty, travel, money, girl, kiss, alone



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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