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Lived in the pitchy Pagan age；
A life without pretension。
He may have worshipped gods like Zeus；
And termed old Dis a master；
But then he had a strong excuse …
He never heard a pastor。
However； it occurs to me
That； had he cut Demeter
And followed you； or followed me；
He wouldn't have been sweeter。
Page： 207
No doubt with ‘‘shepherds'' of this time
He's not the ‘‘clean potato''；
Because … excuse me for my rhyme …
He pinned his faith to Plato。
But these are facts you can't deny；
My pastor； smudged and sooty；
His mind was like a summer sky …
He lived a life of beauty …
To lift his brothers' thoughts above
This earth he used to labour：
His heart was luminous with love …
He didn't wound his neighbour。
To him all men were just the same …
He never foamed at altars；
Although he lived ere Moody came …
Ere Sankey dealt in psalters。
Page： 208
The Lycian sage； my ‘‘reverend'' sir；
Had not your chances ample；
But； after all； I must prefer
His perfect； pure example。
You； having read the Holy Writ …
The Book the angels foster …
Say have you helped us on a bit；
You overfed impostor？
What have you done to edify；
You clammy chapel tinker？
What act like his of days gone by …
The grand old Asian thinker？
Is there no deed of yours at all
With beauty shining through it？
Ah； no！ your heart reveals its gall
On every side I view it。
Page： 209
A blatant bigot with a big
Fat heavy fetid carcass；
You well become your greasy ‘‘rig'' …
You're not a second Arcas。
What sort of ‘‘gospel'' do you preach？
What ‘‘Bible'' is your Bible？
There's worse than wormwood in your speech；
You livid； living libel！
How many lives are growing gray
Through your depraved behaviour！
I tell you plainly … every day
You crucify the Saviour！
Some evil spirit curses you …
Your actions never vary：
You cannot point your finger to
One fact to the contrary。
Page： 210
You seem to have a wicked joy
In your malicious labour；
Endeavouring daily to destroy
The neighbour's love for neighbour。
The brutal curses you eject
Make strong men dread to hear you。
The world outside your petty sect
Feels sick when it is near you。
No man who shuns that little hole
You call your tabernacle
Can have； you shriek； a ransomed soul …
He wears the devil's shackle。
And； hence the ‘‘Papist'' by your clan
Is dogged with words inhuman；
Because he loves that friend of man
The highest type of woman …
Page： 211
Because he has that faith which sees
Before the high Creator
A Virgin pleading on her knees …
A shining Mediator！
God help the souls who grope in night …
Who in your ways have trusted！
I've said enough！ the more I write；
The more I feel disgusted。
The warm； soft air is tainted through
With your pernicious leaven。
I would not live one hour with you
In your peculiar heaven！
Now mount your musty pulpit … thump；
And muddle flat clodhoppers；
And let some long…eared booby ‘‘hump''
The plate about for coppers。
Page： 212
At priest and parson spit and bark；
And shake your ‘‘church'' with curses；
You bitter blackguard of the dark …
With this I close my verses。
Page： 213
NAMES UPON A STONE
（INSCRIBED TO G。L。FAGAN； ESQ。）
ACROSS bleak widths of broken sea
A fierce north…easter breaks；
And makes a thunder on the lea …
A whiteness of the lakes。
Here； while beyond the rainy stream
The wild winds sobbing blow；
I see the river of my dream
Four wasted years ago。
Page： 214
Narrara of the waterfalls；
The darling of the hills；
Whose home is under mountain walls
By many…luted rills！
Her bright green nooks and channels cool
I never more may see；
But； ah！ the Past was beautiful …
The sights that used to be。
There was a rock…pool in a glen
Beyond Narrara's sands；
The mountains shut it in from men
In flowerful fairy lands；
But once we found its dwelling…place …
The lovely and the lone …
And； in a dream； I stooped to trace
Our names upon a stone。
Page： 215
Above us； where the star…like moss
Shone on the wet； green wall
That spanned the straitened stream across；
We saw the waterfall …
A silver singer far away；
By folded hills and hoar；
Its voice is in the woods to…day …
A voice I hear no more。
I wonder if the leaves that screen
The rock…pool of the past
Are yet as soft and cool and green
As when we saw them last！
I wonder if that tender thing；
The moss； has overgrown
The letters by the limpid spring …
Our names upon the stone！
Page： 216
Across the face of scenes we know
There may have come a change …
The places seen four years ago
Perhaps would now look strange。
To you； indeed； they cannot be
What haply once they were：
A friend beloved by you and me
No more will greet us there。
Because I know the filial grief
That shrinks beneath the touch …
The noble love whose words are brief …
I will not say too much；
But often when the night…winds strike
Across the sighing rills；
I think of him whose life was like
The rock…pool's in the hills。
Page： 217
A beauty like the light of song
Is in my dreams； that show
The grand old man who lived so long
As spotless as the snow。
A fitting garland for the dead
I cannot compass yet；
But many things he did and said
I never will forget。
In dells where once we used to rove
The slow； sad water grieves；
And ever comes from glimmering grove
The liturgy of leaves。
But time and toil have marked my face；
My heart has older grown
Since； in the woods； I stooped to trace
Our names upon the stone。
Page： 218
LEICHHARDT
LORDLY harp； by lordly master wakened from majestic sleep；
Yet shall speak and yet shall sing the words which make the fathers weep！
Voice surpassing human voices … high； unearthly harmony …
Yet shall tell the tale of hero； in exalted years to be！
In the ranges； by the rivers； on the uplands； down the dells；
Where the sound of wind and wave is； where the mountain anthe