Lo, I listened to the bleating of the sheep —
Squatters’ sheep —
And I sat me down and pondered long and deep.
And a cloud of gloom came o’er me
At the empty leagues before me —
Yea, I marked the virgin grass-lands’ mighty sweep —
Land that called for cultivation;
Cried aloud for population —
Land that carried trees and fences, grass and sheep.
0, I listened to their bleating on the plain —
Virgin plain —
And I spoke to them with epithets profane.
In the valley, on the hill,
Yet were sheep, and more sheep still.
(Which annoyed me very much, I must explain.
For one sheep may he a blessing,
But a million are depressing.)
And I cursed them, but I knew I cursed in vain.
Lo! and then I fell a-dreaming where I sat
Sadly sat —
Till I didn’t see what I was looking at.
And my dream was most alluring.
Ah ! But, had it been enduring,
What a reckoning it would have been for Fat!
What a blessing for Australia
If my dream — but inter alia,
I’ll explain to you what I am driving at.
Lo! (excuse this weird redundancy of “lo,”
Soulful “lo”;
But I want to be impressive, you must know).
Lo! instead of jumbucks bleating,
I could hear the reaper’s beating;
And I saw abundant milk and honey flow.
I espied snug homesteads dotted
O’er the plain. I also spotted
Towns, with factories and workshops, rise and grow.
Ay, at busy line of commerce filled the place —
Desert place —
And mine eyes beheld a happy populace
Wresting from the land its treasure
Loving work and earning leisure.
Industry and population grew apace.
I could hear the hammers ringing;
Happy housewives blithely singing;
And I read Prosperity in every face.
Then I saw a file of troops go marching past —
Bravely past.
Adown the plain I heard the bugle’s blast.
I beheld the banners streaming,
And I fancied in my dreaming
That our happy country owned an army vast.
As each patriot marched proudly
By, he cried, exulting loudly,
“Fair Australia is safely ours at last!”
Then a large, red man rode up upon a horse,
(Large roan horse),
And spoke to me in strident tones and coarse.
And his discourse was (diluted)
“Wanderers are prosecuted
On this crimson run. Now get!” I got — of course.
As I’ve said, the man was bulky,
And he seemed morose and sulky;
And it just occurred to me he might use force.
But, in spite of him, my dream I still may keep —
Fondly keep.
And from out it sprouts the wisdom that I reap
For the benefit of all men,
But especially of little men.
(Meaning men whose wealth does not exceed one heap.)
Ay, the lesson is before you —
Pray forgive me if I bore you;
But, my brothers, heed the lesson of the sheep!
For, hark ye, hear the bleating of the sheep —
Human sheep!
(O, my brothers, but their sheephood makes me weep!)
Mark ye, how they flock together
After some old, sly bell-wether —
One that Fat finds it convenient to keep;
Watch them how they follow, follow.
See the verbal weeds they swallow,
And the squatter keeps his grass for paying sheep.
O, the squatter has of woolly sheep a lot —
Quite a lot;
But they’re not the only sort of sheep he’s got.
How he profits by their fleeces
And, when price of meat decreases –
Human meat — the butcher, Fat, will take the lot.
O, ye farmers and selectors!
Landless voters! Free electors!
Think, my brothers: are ye sheep, or are ye not?
(C J Dennis)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, Sadness Poems, Faces Poems, Dreams Poems, Place Poems, Cry Poems, Happiness Poems, Money & Wealth Poems, Past Poems, Wisdom & Knowledge Poems, Brothers PoemsBased on Keywords: impressive, bulky, housewives, cultivation, verbal, epithets, morose, voters, inter, depressing, workshops