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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408903" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Rovers</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some born of homely parents<br>For ages settled down—<br>The steady generations<br>Of village, farm, and town:<br>And some of dusky fathers<br>Who wandered since the flood—<br>The fairest skin or darkest<br>Might hold the roving blood— <br>Some born of brutish peasants,<br>And some of dainty peers,<br>In poverty or plenty<br>They pass their early years;<br>But, born in pride of purple,<br>Or straw and squalid sin,<br>In all the far world corners<br>The wanderers are kin. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A rover or a rebel,<br>Conceived and born to roam,<br>As babies they will toddle<br>With faces turned from home;<br>They’ve fought beyond the vanguard<br>Wherever storm has raged,<br>And home is but a prison<br>They pace like lions caged. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They smile and are not happy;<br>They sing and are not gay;<br>They weary, yet they wander;<br>They love, and cannot stay;<br>They marry, and are single<br>Who watch the roving star,<br>For, by the family fireside,<br>Oh, lonely men they are! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They die of peace and quiet—<br>The deadly ease of life;<br>They die of home and comfort;<br>They live in storm and strife;<br>No poverty can tie them,<br>Nor wealth nor place restrain—<br>Girl, wife, or child might draw them,<br>But they’ll be gone again! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Across the glowing desert;<br>Through naked trees and snow;<br>Across the rolling prairies<br>The skies have seen them go;<br>They fought to where the ocean<br>Receives the setting sun;—<br>But where shall fight the rovers<br>When all the lands are won? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They thirst on Greenland snowfields,<br>On Never-Never sands;<br>Where man is not to conquer<br>They conquer barren lands;<br>They feel that most are cowards,<br>That all depends on ‘nerve,’<br>They lead who cannot follow,<br>They rule who cannot serve. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Across the plains and ranges,<br>Away across the seas,<br>On blue and green horizons<br>They camp by twos and threes;<br>They hold on stormy borders<br>Of states that trouble earth<br>The honour of the country<br>That only gave them birth. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unlisted, uncommissioned,<br>Untaught of any school,<br>In far-away world corners<br>Unconquered tribes they rule;<br>The lone hand and revolver—<br>Sad eyes that never quail—<br>The lone hand and the rifle<br>That win where armies fail. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They slumber sound where murder<br>And treachery are bare—<br>The pluck of self-reliance,<br>The pluck of past despair;<br>Thin brown men in pyjamas—<br>The thin brown wiry men!—<br>The helmet and revolver<br>That lie beside the pen. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through drought and desolation<br>They won the way Out Back;<br>The commonplace and selfish<br>Have followed on their track;<br>They conquer lands for others,<br>For others find the gold,<br>But where shall go the rovers<br>When all the lands are old? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A rover and a rebel—<br>And so the worlds commence!<br>Their hearts shall beat as wildly<br>Ten generations hence;<br>And when the world is crowded—<br>’Tis signed and sealed by Fate—<br>The roving blood will rise to make<br>The countries desolate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</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=408903" data-title="The Rovers de Henry Lawson" data-description="Some born of homely parents
For ages settled down—
The steady generations
Of village, farm, and town:
And some of dusky fathers
Who wandered since the flood—
The fairest skin or darkest
Might hold the roving blood— 
Some born of brutish peas..."></div>
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