Onward onward! must we travel? When will come the goal? Riddle I may not unravel, Cease to vex my soul. - Adam Lindsay Gordon

He never gave me a chance to speak, And he call’d her—worse than a dog—
The girl stood up with a crimson cheek, And I fell’d him there like a log.I can feel the blow on my knuckles yet— He feels it more on his brow.
In a thousand years we shall all forget The things that trouble us now.

Question not, but live and labour Till yon goal be won, Helping every feeble neighbour, Seeking help from none; Life is mostly froth and bubble; Two things stand like stone, Kindness in another's trouble, Courage in your own.

Let me slumber in the hollow where the wattle blossoms wave, With never stone or rail to fence my bed;
Should the sturdy station children pull the bush flowers on my grave, I may chance to hear them romping overhead.