Tags
Australian bush poetry, Dennis N. O'Brien, poem, poetry, sleepers, Traditional Australian poetry, Trans Australia railway
They have no kin upon this treeless plain,
Yet here now lie the bodies of their dead.
They, in the forests far away were slain;
Now each one sleeps upon its gravel bed.
Half buried, in their ranks they bear the rails,
As east to west the belts of iron tie.
With smoke and steam leviathan prevails,
And in its wake the ways of ages die.
dnobrienpoetry 