Romance by Will M. Fleming

| No TrackBacks
A recent visitor has expressed the view that there is no romance in Australia outside the racecourse.

There is no romance in the brigalows,
   Nor out on the myall plains.  
There is nothing worth while in the mulga scrub
   When racing with slackened reins
To head-off a crashing clean-skin mob.
It's only a nurse-with-a-cradle job;
   There's no romance for your pains.

There is no romance in the mountain range,
   Where the blue peaks take the dawn.
It's a poor little thrill where the waterfall
   Leaps down through the dewy morn
For two thousand miles where the stockmen ride
Till it meets the strong incoming tide,
   Where romance has never been born.

There is no romance in the sounding surf,
   Where clean-limbed athletes sport
With the glorious grace of the Grecian gods;
   And glamour that youth has caught.
There is no romance in the harbour lights,
Or the jewel stars of the summer nights,
   For our romance is naught.

There is no romance in the men who come
   Through the choking desert sand
To win a mate from the grasp of death
   With the grip of a manly hand.
Where the risks are great and the cheers are few,
There is no romance in the deeds we do,
   In the name of a Brave Young Land?

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 18 February 1928

Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

No TrackBacks

TrackBack URL:

About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on February 18, 2012 10:39 AM.

Dead Stars by Peter Airey was the previous entry in this blog.

A Farewell to Brisbane by M. Roberts is the next entry in this blog.

Find recent content on the main index or look in the archives to find all content.


Powered by Movable Type 4.23-en