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The Waradgery Tribe

by Mary Gilmore (1865-1962)

Australian writer

I stood at the door
Where he went out;
Full-grown man,
Ruddy and stout;

Harried we were, and spent,
Broken and falling,
Ere as the cranes we went,
Crying and calling.

Summer shall see the bird
Backward returning;
Never shall there be heard
Those who went yearning.

Emptied of us the land,
Ghostly our going,
Fallen, like spears the hand
Dropped in the evening.

We are the lost who went
Like the cranes, crying;
Hunted, lonely, and spent
Broken and dying.

About the Author

See our page on Mary Gilmore. Includes a linked list of all her writing available on our website.

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