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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374785" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Since Nellie Came To Live Along The Creek</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">MY HUT is built of stringy-bark, the window’s calico,<br>The furniture a gin-case, one bush-table, and a bunk;<br>Thick as wheat on my selection does the towering timber grow,<br>And the stately blue-gums’ taproots to the bedrock all are sunk;<br>Then the ferns spring up like nettles,<br>And the ti-tree comes and settles<br>On my clearing if I spell-oh for a week;<br>But I work for love of labour<br>Since I’ve got a handy neighbour,<br>And Miss Nellie’s come to live along the creek.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Time was when Death sat by me, and he stalked me through the trees;<br>Then my arm was weak as water, and my heart a weary thing;<br>I was sullen as a wombat on such still, wan days as these,<br>And my wedges all were rusty, and my axe had lost its ring.<br>Then a fear like sickness bound me,<br>And I cursed the trees around me,<br>For quite hopeless seemed the struggle I’d begun<br>And at night-time, cowed and sinking,<br>I would sit there thinking, thinking,<br>Gazing grimly down the barrels of my gun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then I felt the bush must crush me with its dreadful, brooding wings,<br>And its voices seemed to mock me, till I thought that I was mad<br>Like the mopoke, and the jackass, and the other loony things;<br>For beside my old dog, Brumbie, not a living mate I had.<br>Then each sapling was a giant,<br>And the stumps were all defiant,<br>And my friends were very few and far to seek;<br>But the bush is bright and splendid,<br>And my melancholy’s ended,<br>Since Miss Nellie came to live along the creek</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would swear she was the sweetest if the world was full of girls:<br>She’s as graceful as a sapling, and her waist is neat and slim;<br>She is dimpled o’er with smiling, and has glossy, golden curls,<br>And her eyes peep out like violets ’neath her sunhat’s jealous rim.<br>If I think I see her flitting<br>On the sun-crowned hill, or sitting<br>’Neath the fern-fronds where the creek sleeps, deep and cool,<br>Then my stroke is straight and steady,<br>And the white chips run and eddy,<br>And I laugh aloud at nothing, like a fool.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now my axe rings like a sabre, and my heart exults with pride<br>When the green gums sweep the scrub down, and they thunder and rebound,<br>And then lie with limbs all shattered, reaching out on either side,<br>Like giants killed in battle, with their faces to the ground.<br>Now the bush has many pleasures,<br>And a wondrous store of treasures,<br>And a thousand tales its eerie voices speak;<br>But its strange night hushes, seeming<br>Sent to lure to mystic dreaming,<br>Have no terrors, now Miss Nellie’s on the creek.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am happy when the thunder bumps and bellows on the hill,<br>And the tall trees writhe and wrestle with the fury of the gale,<br>Or when sunshine floods the clearing, and the bushland is so still<br>That I hear the creek’s low waters tinkle, tinkle on the shale.<br>In the thought that she is near me<br>There’s a charm to lift and cheer me,<br>And a power that makes me mighty seems to flow<br>From Miss Nellie’s distant coo-ey,<br>Or her twin lips red and dewy<br>When she comes by here, and shyly calls me ‘Joe.’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She can work from dawn to nightfall, and look handsome all the day;<br>At her smile my garden flourished, and the vines grew green and strong,<br>And the bush falls back before it, and it strikes the scrub away,<br>For it lingers ever with me, and it stirs me like a song.<br>Now I labour in all weathers,<br>And the logs are merest feathers,<br>Nor my heart nor yet my hand is ever weak,<br>And a higher thing my prize is<br>Than all else that life comprises—<br>Pretty Nell, who’s come to live along the creek.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edward+George+Dyson">Edward George Dyson</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=374785" data-title="Since Nellie Came To Live Along The Creek de Edward George Dyson" data-description="MY HUT is built of stringy-bark, the window’s calico,
The furniture a gin-case, one bush-table, and a bunk;
Thick as wheat on my selection does the towering timber grow,
And the stately blue-gums’ taproots to the bedrock all are sunk;
Then the..."></div>
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