Henry Lawson, 1903
This poem is from the start of an article by Henry Lawson, "Drought-Stricken".
A dusty patch in the Dingo Scrub,
That was cleared and ploughed in vain
(What matters it now if the soil be soaked
And the bush be dark with rain?)
A heap of stones where the chimney stood,
And a post on the boundary line
For forty years of my father's life
And fifteen years of mine.