Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TOWN FOLK, by FRANK WILMOT


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TOWN FOLK, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: They said 'farewell' in a hundred rending ways
Last Line: That their cars thrash the roads from town to town?
Alternate Author Name(s): Maurice, Furnley
Subject(s): Towns


THEY said 'Farewell' in a hundred rending ways
To peace and the stars that shook their radiance free;
Farewell to laughing ranks of hope's bright days
Poised on their moments of expectancy.

No old-world songs or old-time fancies swim
Like a soft cloud of scent, or light, or sound
Into their days of vanity; no dim
Eternities of longing wrap them round.

Their wit's uncertainties may not dispel,
Nor any conscious subterfuge compose
Unending restlessness; they who rebel
Against the arrogant beauty of the rose!

The towns are full of wandering haunted men
No hidden waters call; their gain and loss
Have trapped them, they will never see again
The old logs mouldering in their cloaks of moss.

Or, seeing them, their weary hearts stay still;
Far, far from here, beyond the City gate,
The tinkling bell-birds call from creek to hill,
The she-oaks in their verdant shackles wait!

And tall grey gums, soaked in the rustle of showers
Rear through a falling heaven of friendly cloud
Like banded ghosts of Summer's radiant hours,
Conscious of their vast ancestry -- and proud.

Nor can the valleys where the thrushes sang,
Where dodging robins scouted down the ways,
Nor odour of drenched verdure send their pang
Of peace unutterable across these days.

Comes fear upon these people for sweet things
So peaceably forgotten, calm unknown?
Comes a bush fear on their mad wanderings
That their cars thrash the roads from town to town?





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