The Bush Fire, and Other Verses

T H E B U S H F I R E AND OTHER VERSES


AND OTHER VERSES BY IDA LEE SECOND EDITION LONDON SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON & COMPANY Limited St. Dunstan’s House Fetter Lane, Fleet Street, E.C. 1897 LONDON: PRINTED BY GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, I.D., ST. JOHN’S HOUSE, CLERKENWELL ROAD, E.C. TO MY FATHER AND MOTHER



Stockman ( Loq. ).
Wake up, boy! the grass is burning; See the glare across the hill! Flames are nearing the “Flat Paddock,” And the sheep are in there still. Dark you say! Yes, so I think it, Tho’ I see the field of corn; But the lights which flicker thro’ it Are not those we see at dawn. Mount the Arab! Take wet sacking! Wet it must be, mind, not dry; We must save the master’s cattle, If we perish while we try.
Ride on faster, you are younger, Tie your horse to yonder tree, Break some overhanging branches One for you and one for me. Face the fire and do not shirk it, Never mind the smoke and heat; Do not heed the dead wood cracking, Or the sparks beneath your feet. Beat and blind them, crush and kill them, Till their blackened embers lie Stark in ashes, and around you, One by one in darkness die.
See the blaze is growing greater, Now it runs with many a leap To where stand the tall white gum trees, In whose limbs the parrots sleep,— Throws its fiery arms around them; Every bird in terror flies From its home in grief forsaken, Shrieking harsh unearthly cries. Will the wind not turn to Westward, Or those great black clouds drop rain? There was thunder! no, I doubt it, But do listen once again.