 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
Returned from Ballarat, where he had found
Gold nuggets in the early rush, and more
Golden experience, Martin Lusk, one day,
Bearded and bronzed, dropt in upon the quiet
Where I with treasured books—mine ancient friends—
Was communing. At first, I knew him not,
But soon the name recalled a form, a face
From the dim past, that might perhaps have grown
Into this son of Anak. So we fell
A-talking, and I found his mind well stored
With fresh, quaint pictures of that Digger-life
Fighting with Death and Fortune, gambling, drinking,
Thieving and pistolling, in dirt and squalor,
Brutal-heroic, yet with touching gleams
Of human tenderness, and gradual sway
Of Law that, self-evolved, yet mastered self,
And rough-shaped that wild chaos. I could see
This keen observer was a thinker too,
Patient and tolerant, with the stuff in him
For building up an empire. Being lonely
In his hotel, and so conversible,
I made him promise he would dine with me.
Gold nuggets in the early rush, and more
Golden experience, Martin Lusk, one day,
Bearded and bronzed, dropt in upon the quiet
Where I with treasured books—mine ancient friends—
Was communing. At first, I knew him not,
But soon the name recalled a form, a face
From the dim past, that might perhaps have grown
Into this son of Anak. So we fell
A-talking, and I found his mind well stored
With fresh, quaint pictures of that Digger-life
Fighting with Death and Fortune, gambling, drinking,
Thieving and pistolling, in dirt and squalor,
Brutal-heroic, yet with touching gleams
Of human tenderness, and gradual sway
Of Law that, self-evolved, yet mastered self,
264
This keen observer was a thinker too,
Patient and tolerant, with the stuff in him
For building up an empire. Being lonely
In his hotel, and so conversible,
I made him promise he would dine with me.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |