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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368014" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Drought And Potatoes</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The rhythmic rise and fall of swinging hoe, <br>Red rising dust that coats his arms and legs<br>And all for spuds that without rain won't grow; <br>Each plant with wilted leaves to heaven begs<br>Here on this barren hilltop where the gaze<br>In all directions shows the blasted earth, <br>And from the sky, the scorching searing blaze<br>Of sun that robs the land of all its worth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like tombstones stand the forest giants now dead, <br>All strangled by the pioneer's ringing axe; <br>They cast no shade upon the digger's head<br>As from the dust, the stunted crop he sacks.<br>A fence is strung from one dead tree to next, <br>‘Tis all that says this patch of earth unique; <br>Around it lie the bones of death perplexed; <br>The logs and limbs - the past that cannot speak.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He stops to rest, his back to dead wood pressed; <br>A cooling drink, a humble meal of bread, <br>Then back he goes to carry on his quest.<br>At each day's end the path to home he'll tread<br>As on his weary shoulder go the spoils, <br>Hard wrung from tortured soil that cries for rain, <br>As day on day for scant reward he toils.<br>A farmer bred - so used to meager gain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Queensland 1968</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Dennis+N.+O%27Brien">Dennis N. O'Brien</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=368014" data-title="Drought And Potatoes de Dennis N. O'Brien" data-description="The rhythmic rise and fall of swinging hoe, 
Red rising dust that coats his arms and legs
And all for spuds that without rain won't grow; 
Each plant with wilted leaves to heaven begs
Here on this barren hilltop where the gaze
In all directions sh..."></div>
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