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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357985" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Roads' End</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Old Ben, the pensioner, is going down to die.<br>Huddled in the mail-car, he turns a wistful eye<br>On this familiar forest scene, the wooded mountain wall;<br>And nought could lure him from it save the last stern call.<br>He has loved it with a fierce love no reason comprehends;<br>The great gums, the green ways, the rough bush friends.<br>But doctor says his tough old heart at last has let him down;<br>So he's off to be 'patched up a bit' in hospital in town.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Patched up a bit'. . . He'd heard that talk when they took Badger Jack,<br>And Charlie Clem, and Lame Mick. But none of these came back.<br>Was it Mick went first? Or Charlie? (Lordy, Lord! How men forget.)<br>And now they're taking Ben away; and Ben not eighty yet.<br>The youngest, he, of six old hulks; and three have gone away;<br>Till now there's only George Jones left, and old Pete Parraday -<br>His oldest friend, Pete Parraday, who has his dog to mind.<br>The cruellest break of all, that was - leaving his dog behind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Old Ben, the pensioner, sits huddled in the car;<br>And his filmed eyes seek the skyline where the timbered ranges are -<br>This kind, green place of singing bards, of tree and scrubland dense.<br>He hears their words of forced good cheer and jovial pretence:<br>Says old George Jones, 'In hospital you'll get real proper care.'<br>'An' mind,' says Pete, 'no sparkin' with them pretty nurses there.<br>Why, man, you'll be a two-year-old when you come back agen.'<br>'You keep your eye on my ole dawg, an' feed 'im good,' pipes Ben.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then, 'All aboard!' the mailman shouts 'Now, Ben, mind them old bones!'<br>A hand-clasp from Pete Parraday, a pat from old George Jones,<br>And Ben, the pensioner, goes off on his last pilgrimage…<br>'Broke up reel fast,' growls old George Jones, 'considerin' his age.<br>Hey! Don't let that dawg foller him! Here, Rover, you behave.'<br>They watch the sick man turn about, and feebly try to wave.<br>Swiftly the car speeds round the bend; the echoes die away…<br>'Me next? Or maybe you, George,' says old Pete Parraday.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</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=357985" data-title="The Roads' End de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="Old Ben, the pensioner, is going down to die.
Huddled in the mail-car, he turns a wistful eye
On this familiar forest scene, the wooded mountain wall;
And nought could lure him from it save the last stern call.
He has loved it with a fierce love n..."></div>
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