Classic Poem

Lonely hut on barren creek,
Where the rotting sheep-yards reek,
Far away from kith and kin,
None save thee and native gin,
Many a weary mile within—
Alice Gertler.

On the creaking blue-gum tree
Moans the bronze-wing drearily,
And anon the curlew's cry,
Sharp and shrill goes wailing by
Like a weird Litany—
Alice Gertler.

Waterless the wide lagoon
Crazes 'neath a blood-red moon,
And the “hard times” hated cry
Stifles in a stagnant sky,
While the starving cattle die—
Alice Gertler.

Uncongenial sights for thee,
Gruesome sounds of death and dree;
Filling all the nights with fear,
Making dreary days more drear
All the uneventful year—
Alice Gertler.

None to hearken. And despair
Gives to thee a listless air
Dear, how long the stretch of pain
Ere will turn a woman's brain,
And her sad tears cease to rain?
Alice Gertler.

Bound to one who loves thee not,
Drunken offspring of a sot;
Even now at wayside inn
Riots he in drink and sin,
Mating with an half-caste gin—
Alice Gertler.

When I think what thou hast borne
Painfully my breast is torn.
Meant I but to pity thee
But love came, unsought, to me,
And I'm sad with loving thee
Alice Gertler.

Still I may not tell thee so.
Thou would'st scorn me well, I know.
With thy fair cheek all aflame
Thou would'st talk of sin and shame,
And me with dishonour blame—
Alice Gertler.

Yes, I met thee all too late,
Thou hadst sealed thy fearful fate.
Better long ago had died
One so full of virtuous pride,
Than unto a fiend allied
Alice Gertler.

Careth aught the world for thee,
Or thy life-long misery?
Thou art gifted, good, and fair,
But neglected; hence a snare
Would entrap thee everywhere,
Alice Gertler.

Go to those good men again,
They who bound with ring and pen,
Say he's ta'en thy peace away,
Wronged and used thee cruelly.
Will they touch thy burden? Nay
Alice Gertler.

Girl, it fills me with dismay
Seeing thee give thy life away;
Burned thy cheek is by thy tears,
Wrung thy heart is by thy fears;
Pray thou dost, but no one hears,
Alice Gertler.

But I know thee. Thou wilt stay
Even till thy hair is grey.
Faithful to thy vows thou'lt be
Until all is gone from thee,
E'en thy faith in Deity—
Alice Gertler.

Millais makes a face like thine
On the Huguenot to shine;
What would I not give to be
Like him, forced all else to flee,
But beloved by one like thee,
Alice Gertler.

May I be forgiven the thought,
Pleasure laden, sorrow fraught;
But, my sweet, unconscious queen,
It cannot be wrong I ween,
Just to think what might have been—
Alice Gertler.

But each wish must I resign,
But for strength to make no sign.
Strength to live, if so it be,
Until Heaven do pity thee,
Or send death to make thee free—
Alice Gertler.