You’re off away to London now, <br />Where no one dare ignore you, <br />With Southern laurels on your brow, <br />And all the world before you. <br />But if you should return again, <br />Forgotten and unknowing, <br />Then one shall wait in wind and rain, <br />Where forty cheered you going. <br /> <br />You’re off away to London, proved, <br />Where fair girls shall adore you; <br />The poor, plain face of one that loved <br />May never rise before you. <br />But if you should return again, <br />When young blood ceases flowing, <br />Then one shall wait in wind and rain, <br />Where forty cheered you going. <br /> <br />It may be carelessly you spoke <br />Of never more returning, <br />But sometimes in the London smoke, <br />You’ll smell the gum leaves burning; <br />And think of how the grassy plain <br />Beyond the fog is flowing, <br />And one that waits in shine or rain, <br />Where forty cheered you going.<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rush-to-london/
