On The Boundary

I love the ancient boundary-fence,
That mouldering chock-and-log.
When I go ride the boundary
I let the old horse jog
And take his pleasure in and out
Where the sandalwood grows dense,
And tender pines clasp hands across
The log that tops the fence.

Tis pleasant on the boundary-fence,
These sultry summer days;
A mile away, outside the scrub,
The plain is all ablaze,
The sheep are panting on the camps,
The heat is so intense;
But here the shade is cool and sweet
Along the boundary-fence.

I love to loaf along the fence,
So does my collie dog,
He often finds a spotted cat
Hid in a hollow log;
Hes very near as old as I
And ought to have more sense,
Ive hammered him so many times
Along the boundary-fence.

My mother says that boundary fence
Must surely be bewitched;
The old man says that through that fence
The neighbours are enriched;
Its always down, and through the gaps
Our stock all get them hence,
I takes me half my time to watch
The doings of that fence.

But should you seek the reason
You wont travel very far,
Tis there a mile away among
The murmuring Belar:
The Joness block joins on to ours,
And so, in consequence,
Its part of Pollys work to ride
Their side the boundary-fence.

Barcroft Boake

Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake was an Australian poet, born in Sydney, New South Wales. He worked as a surveyor and drover in the Australian outback, which influenced his poetry. Boake was known for his bush ballads that depicted the harsh and rugged life in the Australian wilderness. Tragically, his life ended prematurely when he took his own life at the age of 26. Despite his short career, Boake left a lasting impact on Australian literature.

Barcroft Boake

A Bushmans Love - A Fragment

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Desiree

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The Demon Snow-Shoes

Barcroft Boake, Simple Poetry

English

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