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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538502" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Queen Of Yore</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Slowly she hobbles past the town, grown old at heart and gray;<br>With misty eyes she stumbles down along the well-known way;<br>She sees her maiden march unrolled by billabong and bend,<br>And every gum's a comrade old and every oak's a friend;<br>But gone the smiling faces that welcomed her of yore -<br>They crowd her tented places and hold her hand no more.<br>And she, the friend they once could trust to serve their eager wish,<br>Shall show no more the golden dust that hides in many a dish;<br>And through the dismal mullock-heaps she threads her mournful way<br>Where here and there some gray-beard keeps his windlass-watch to-day;<br>Half-flood no more she looses her reins as once of old<br>To wash the busy sluices and whisper through the gold.<br>She sees no wild-eyed steers above stand spear-horned on the brink;<br>The brumby mobs she used to love come down no more to drink;<br>Where green the grasses used to twine above them, shoulder-deep,<br>Through the red dust - a long, slow line - crawl in the starving sheep;<br>She sees no crossing cattle that Western drovers bring,<br>No swimming steeds that battle to block them when they ring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She sees no barricaded roofs, no loop-holed station wall,<br>No foaming steed with flying hoofs to bring the word 'Ben Hall!'<br>She sees no reckless robbers stoop behind their ambush stone,<br>No coach-and-four, no escort troop; - but, very lorn and lone,<br>Watches the sunsets redden along the mountain side<br>Where round the spurs of Weddin the wraiths of Weddin ride.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tho' fettered with her earthen bars and chained with bridge and weir<br>She goes her own way with the stars; she knows the course to steer!<br>And when her thousand rocky rills foam, angry, to her feet,<br>Rain-heavy from the Cowra hills she takes her vengeance sweet,<br>And leaps with roar of thunder, and buries bridge and ford,<br>That all the world may wonder when the Lachlan bares her sword!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gray River! let me take your hand for all your memories old -<br>Your cattle-kings, your outlaw-band, your wealth of virgin gold;<br>For once you held, and hold it now, the sceptre of a queen,<br>And still upon your furrowed brow the royal wreaths are green;<br>Hold wide your arms, the waters! Lay bare your silver breast<br>To nurse the sons and daughters that spread your empire west!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Henry+Ogilvie">William Henry Ogilvie</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=538502" data-title="The Queen Of Yore de William Henry Ogilvie" data-description="Slowly she hobbles past the town, grown old at heart and gray;
With misty eyes she stumbles down along the well-known way;
She sees her maiden march unrolled by billabong and bend,
And every gum's a comrade old and every oak's a friend;
But gone t..."></div>
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