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.