to walk on all fours. But the dweller in the wilderness acknowledges
the subtle charm of this fantastic land of monstrosities.
He becomes familiar with the beauty of loneliness. Whispered to by
the myriad tongues of the wilderness, he learns the language of the barren
and the uncouth, and can read the hieroglyphics of haggard gum-trees,
blown into odd shapes, distorted with fierce hot winds,
or cramped with cold nights, when the Southern Cross freezes
in a cloudless sky of icy blue. The phantasmagoria of that wild dreamland
termed the Bush interprets itself, and the Poet of our desolation
begins to comprehend why free Esau loved his heritage of desert sand
better than all the bountiful richness of Egypt.


Marcus Clarke.






General Contents.

[The poems are listed by alphabetical order.]



In Memoriam. By Henry Kendall.
Preface. By Marcus Clarke.

A Basket of Flowers