SO the last day’s come at last, the close of my fifteen year—
The end of the hope, an’ the struggles, an’ messes I’ve put in here.
All of the shearings over, the final mustering done,—
Eleven hundred an’ fifty for the incoming man, near on.
This is a favourite, and I imagine an experience shared by many NZ farmers, particularly after WW1 when the farms given to them as returned servicemen turned out to be cobalt deficient and unproductive. Tough people...
The Poor Place
The Old Place
leave, leave the place
cause it broken the pure heart
which is dedicated for the Holy Spirit
so leave the old poor place for the real life! mystical writing
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10/28/2021 5:49:51 AM # 22.214.171.1248