The street at night: a line of light,
And the red and blue of the flashing cars.
The surging masses of people flow --
Hurrying or idling, on they go
Thro' the tempting glow of the city bars.
As I cross the street with lingering feet,
And pause on the iron bridge awhile,
Something comes thro' the human rush --
Something speaks of the silent bush,
And moves me to a wondering smile.
Only a sound on the metalled ground,
Crossing close by the shadowy Quay,
A little mob of bewildered sheep,
Afraid to hurry -- afraid to creep,
Bringing memories back to me.
Each woolly back from the grey bush track,
Each frightened eye in the gas-lamp's flare
Recalling the yards at Cargoolees,
And the fragrant breath of the wattle breeze,
And mountain ranges, away out there.
Tram-cars speeding, all unheeding
The tremb'ling creatures beside the wall.
The tramp of hoofs on the flinty ground,
Of drafted sheep for the shambles bound,
And a strangeness over all.
The street so richly gemmed with light --
The town that has no time to sleep --
Loud laughs and oaths ring from the bars --
While flashing lights from passing cars
Reveal to me the frightened sheep!
First published in Steele Rudd's Magazine, 7 April 1904
