Oh 'twas a poor country, in Autumn it was bare, <br />The only green was the cutting grass and the sheep found little there. <br />Oh, the thin wheat and the brown oats were never two foot high, <br />But down in the poor country no pauper was I. <br /> <br />My wealth it was the glow that lives forever in the young, <br />'Twas on the brown water, in the green leaves it hung. <br />The blue cranes fed their young all day - how far in a tall tree! <br />And the poor, poor country made no pauper of me. <br /> <br />I waded out to the swan's nest - at night I heard them sing, <br />I stood amazed at the Pelican, and crowned him for a king; <br />I saw the black duck in the reeds, and the spoonbill on the sky, <br />And in that poor country no pauper was I. <br /> <br />The mountain-ducks down in the dark made many a hollow sound, <br />I saw in sleep the Bunyip creep from the waters underground. <br />I found the plovers' island home, and they fought right valiantly, <br />Poor was the country, but it made no pauper of me. <br /> <br />My riches all went into dreams that never yet came home, <br />They touched upon the wild cherries and the slabs of honeycomb, <br />They were not of the desolate brood that men can sell or buy, <br />Down in that poor country no pauper was I. <br /> <br /> * * * * * <br /> <br />The New Year came with heat and thirst and the little lakes were low, <br />The blue cranes were my nearest friends and I mourned to see them go; <br />I watched their wings so long until I only saw the sky, <br />Down in that poor country no pauper was I. <br /> <br /><br /><br />John Shaw Neilson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poor-poor-country/
