A Suitable Poem

As I stood at the gate this morning, waving farewell and watching as the lights of the departing vehicle were consumed by darkness, I couldn’t help thinking of Christina Hindhaugh’s poem:

The love of city polish,
Of manners most urbane,
Of clean, pink hands and faces,
Is running in some veins,
Strong love of suit and waistcoats,
White shirts and soft silk ties,
I know but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise…

I love a sunburnt torso,
A chest of sweeping planes!
A man with rugged features,
And the country in his veins!
I love his skin-barked knuckles,
I love his knobbly knees;
His beauty and his terror –
It’s a wide, brown man for me!

Core of my heart, my farmer!
With mud stains on his socks,
Sump oil on his moleskins,
Grass seeds in his jocks.
His pockets stuffed with hayband,
His boots caked in manure;
His constant smell of woolshed
For me holds great allure.

A tender-hearted tyrant!
A wilful, stubborn man!
All you who have not loved one-
You will not understand.
Though Earth holds many splendors,
Wherever I may lie,
I know to what brown torso
My homing thoughts will fly!

With abject apologies to Dorothea Mackellar.

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3 Responses to A Suitable Poem

  1. Becky says:

    I am sorry it is goodbye time 😦

  2. lillismum says:

    my eyes are leaky Amanda, so sorry that it's time to say goodbye, but on the upside i am sure he will return xxxxx

  3. A Guyra Girl says:

    Don't worry, girls, he'll be back soon! Yay!!

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