Here you will find thePoemBy Momba Tracksof poet Roderic Quinn
THE hearts of the everlasting-flowers Shall steal the gold o' the sun When the winter rains have done their work And the winter days are done, And the desert pea shall hue the rocks By the tracks of Momba run. The dew shall gleam on the silken webs That the night-time spider weaves, And scatter its gems on the saltbush plains And drip from the homestead eaves, And the quandong fruit take ruddy fire In the green of the quandong leaves. The bees shall saunter from bloom to bloom And burthen their honey-sacs; And the drovers ride in the sunset light On the long, long winding tracks; But never a man shall pause to pray By the graves of the Barrier blacks. Deep dug they lie in the mulga scrub, These graves of a dwindling race, Stone-piled and bare, where the windy noons Swift lights and shadows trace! And the lone, heaped mound is the only sign Of a dead man's burial-place. They passed away like a feeble flame Before the white man's breath (Wherever the white man sets his feet The white man comes with death): And they lie deep-celled in the moisty mould, And the wind their requiem saith.
