Recently in Drought Category

End of Drought by Mabel Forrest

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The yellow ochre walls are turned to gold;
   A swimming spout makes silver overflow;
The grey hills gather cloud smocks fold on fold,
   And changed is every landmark that we know

On sunny days. The shallow, shingled roof
   Is charcoal grey. With tight-closed lips
The pink snap-dragons hold themselves aloof
   From wild, wet kisses. Where the brick wall drips

The rain is dancing, splashing on the stone;
   The stiff umbrella-tree begins to sway;
The hard, dull leaves of zinnias alone
   Burn a red fire of blossom through the grey.

The banners of the storm drive east and south,
   And on the waters trail like skeins of wool;
A seagull, driven from the river's mouth,
   Screams like a ghost that haunts a fatal pool.

We in the city streets, who smile and pass,
   Call to each other that the drought is done,
Dreaming a world made wonderful with grass,
   And waves of wheat that shimmer in the sun.

First published in The Sydney Mail, 5 January 1927

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

The Coming of the Drought by Dorothea Dowling

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I have seen him on the hill-tops,
I have glimpsed him in the gullies,
Where the leaves are burnt to cinders
And the creek-bed cracked and dry;
I have heard him laugh derision
At the waterfall's slow trickle,
Sensed the panting silence tremble
With the echo of his cry.

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 14 November 1936

Author reference sites: Austlit

See also.

In Time of Drought by George Essex Evans

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Drought and ruin hold the land:
   Round our homes their hosts have met;
On our hearths their thrones are builded;
   On our hearts their seals are set,
But with steadfast heart and hand
   Witness of our race we bear
That hath never bowed its manhood
   To the Sceptre of Despair.

Lo, within the souls of men
   Bitterness has written deep,
Want is with them in their labour,
   Care is with them in their sleep.
O, the gallant hearts and true
   Toiling on without a sign!
O the weary woman faces
   Fighting in the battle-line!

And my heart grows hot within
   For the scattered ranks and pres't,
For the legions of the army
   That is fighting in the West --
For the star that still endures
   Through the blackness of the night,
For the will that does not falter,
   And the splendour of the fight.

'Twas not ease and smooth-won gain
   Made the mighty men of old.
Iron-seared, the souls of Nations
   Learnt to suffer and to hold,
In the surfeit of abundance
   Lurks the canker of decay :
From the discipline of hardship
   Grows the power to mould and sway.


With threads of pain and bitterness
   God Weaves upon the loom of Fate:
In furnace-fires of suffering
   He makes a nation great.

First published in The Brisbane Courier, 13 September 1902;
and later in
The Queenslander, 4 October 1902.

Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography, Australian Poetry Library

See also 

About this Archive

This page is an archive of recent entries in the Drought category.

Dreaming and Sleep is the previous category.

Droving is the next category.

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