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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344172" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Travelling Post Office</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The roving breezes come and go, the reed-beds sweep and sway, <br>The sleepy river murmers low,and loiters on its way, <br>It is the land of lots o'time along the Castlereagh. <br>. . .. . . . . </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The old man's son had left the farm, he found it full and slow, <br>He drifted to the great North-west, where all the rovers go. <br>&quot;He's gone so long,&quot; the old man said, &quot;he's dropped right out of mind, <br>But if you'd write a line to him I'd take it very kind; <br>He's shearing here and fencing there, a kind of waif and stray-- <br>He's droving now with Conroy's sheep along the Castlereagh. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;The sheep are travelling for the grass, and travelling very slow; <br>Tey may be at Mundooran now, or past the Overflow, <br>Or tramping down the black-soil flats across by Waddiwong; <br>But all those little country towns would send the letter wrong. <br>The mailman, if he's extra tired, would pass them in his sleep; <br>It's safest to address the note to 'Care of Conroy's sheep,' <br>For five and twenty thousand head can scarcely go astray, <br>You write to 'Care of Conroy's sheep along the Castlereagh.'&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>. . .. . . ... .. . ... </div><div style="margin:10px 0">By rock and ridge and riverside the western mail has gone <br>Across the great Blue Mountain Range to take the letter on. <br>A moment on the topmost grade, while open fire-doors glare, <br>She pauses like a living thing to breathe the mountain air, <br>Then launches down the other side across the plains away <br>To bear that note to &quot;Conroy's sheep along the Castlereagh,&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And now by coach and mailman's bag it goes from town to town, <br>And Conroy's Gap and Conroy's Creek have marked it &quot;Further down.&quot; <br>Beneath a sky of deepest blue, where never cloud abides, <br>A speck upon the waste of plain the lonely mail-man rides. <br>Where fierce hot winds have set the pine and myall boughs asweep <br>He hails the shearers passing by for news of Conroy's sheep. <br>By big lagoons where wildfowl play and crested pigeons flock, <br>By camp-fires where the drovers ride around their restless stock, <br>And pass the teamster toiling down to fetch the wool away <br>My letter chases Conroy's sheep along the Castlereagh. <br></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Andrew+Barton+Paterson">Andrew Barton Paterson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344172" data-title="The Travelling Post Office de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="The roving breezes come and go, the reed-beds sweep and sway, 
The sleepy river murmers low,and loiters on its way, 
It is the land of lots o'time along the Castlereagh. 
. . .. . . . . 

The old man's son had left the farm, he found it full and s..."></div>
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